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A    STORY 


Jiff  on   tl)f   |stj)mii$. 


BY     JOSEPH     W.    FA  BENS. 


*  AVliLilir-r  ^^r  iKV  m  ilie  care  or  the  fi!..--!. 
Ouraleeji  MI  soft  on  the  hnrdfst  bc-d: 
\Vh«-lher  w.-  coiKhcd  in  our  roin;li  cupof". 
On  Ilie  rougiirr  plank  of  our  (,'litling  btiat. 
Or  filrotch'-d  on  the  beach,  or  our  Kad(ll«:s  spread 
A*  a  pillow  bencalh  the  resliiic  lirai!, 
Frevh  wc  woHc  upon  tliv  morrt^w. 


We  Were  of  all  loncues  and  rn-wln  ; 
tJoinr  *(Tc  thohc  who  rounfed  i.eadi*, 
Kome  of  nineque,  and  some  of  churcii. 
And  some,  or  I  miB'say,  of  neither ; 
Wt  through  ih«  wide  world  might  yc  uparrh. 
Kor  find  a  moilier  crew,  nor  blitlicr." 

Si'gt  of  Cortntk, 


NEW    YORK  : 
GEORGE  P.  PUTNAM  &  Co.,  10  PARK  PLACE. 

M  D  C  C  C  L  I  1 1 . 


6  5037 


Enterkd,  nccordiiig  to  Act  of  Congress,  iu  the  year  1852,  by 
O ,     r .    PUTNAM    &    Co., 

in  the  Clcik'a  OiTicG  of  llie  District  Conn  fur  tlio  SoullitTii  District  oi 
New  Yorli. 


R..CH  A  toft  K»b,'Ptiater*anU  &trt-cotyper, 
6a  Veiei/   Street. 


5^^ 


Slmo0  11  CarniiiiE,  fei).,  / 

AMKKICAN  lUN>r!,  AT  I'AXA.MA, 

For   his  galiaut  conduct  at    the    Battle  of  Bukna  Vista,  and  the 

efficient  services  rendered  his  Country  and  tho  cause  of 

hunaanity  in  assisting  to  maintain  the  Laws  at  Panama 

■when   an  infuriated  mob   threatened  to   disturb 

the    jjublic    peace    and    safety,   and    destroy 

tlic  friendly  relations  existing  between 

our  Government  and  the  Republic 

of  New  Grenada, 

NOT    LESS    THAN 

AS   A   TOKEN'   OF   BROrilEHLY   AFFIX'TION   AND  REGARD, 
Is    icltsp  tttfulls    Jnatribjh. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I. 


Life  in  Dishabille, 


Yale  ftiul  Parkins,   - 

A  Life  Sa\fd,  -         .         - 

Monsieur  Cra[iol'.'t, 

Preparations  for  a  Start, 

En  Route, 

A  Tramp  in  the  Woods,  - 

After  Dinner,  - 

The  Bottle  Manuscript,   - 

Tlje  Padre,      - 

Developments, 


CHAPTER  U. 


CHAFPER  II r. 


CHAPTER  IV. 


CHAPTER  V. 


CHAITER  VI. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 


CHAPTER  IX. 


CHAPTER  X. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


Page 


15 


2V 


4u 


51 


lOf. 


lis 


VI  coy  TENTS. 

Pagt 

CHAPTKR    XII. 

Ohagres  River, -        -     125 

CHAPTER    XIII. 

Dos  Hermanas,        -         -         -         -         -         ■•         -         -         -     133 

CHAPTKR    XIV. 

A  Xight  on  the  Rivor,     -         .         -         -  -         -         -     141 

CHAPTER    XV. 

AVl:;it  a  <lay  may  l>ring  forth,  -------     154 

CHAPTER    XVI. 

Ati  Official  Disclosure, 173 

CHAPTER   XVII. 

S'-t'ne  at  Palcnquilla, 184 

CHAPTER    XVIII. 

Oorgona, -         -         -         -         -199 


PREFACE. 


"  By  seizing  the  Isthmus  of  Darien,"  said  Sir  Walter  Raleigh, 
"you  will  wrest  the  keys  of  the  world  from  Spain."  The  aspira- 
tion of  the  days  of  Elizabeth  has  become  the  fact  of  our  own.  : 
Decrcpid  old  Spain  did  indeed  long  since  loosen  its  palsied  grasp 
of  this  land  of  wealth  and  promise ;  but  it  was  not  until  Anglo- 
Saxon  enterprise  strode  over  it,  that  the  world  saw  upon  its 
front  the  nascent  lineaments  of  a  great  empire.  The  wonderful 
change  which  has  been  and  is  yet  to  be  wrought  upon  the  surface 
and  in  the  character  of  the  people  of  this  country,  will  one  day 
form  a  very  interesting  chapter  in  the  history  of  adventurous 
enterprise.  For  the  present,  anything  which  tends  to  shed  light, 
however  faint,  upon  a  point  to  which  so  many  eyes  are  turned  in 
hope  and  admiration,  the  writer  conceives  will  not  be  without  its 
value. 

It  is  not,  nevertheless,  pretended  that  the  following  pages  are 
fraught  with  any  special  brilliancy — a  modest  disclaimer  which 
the  reader  will  perchance  think  wholly  uncalled  for  under  the 
circumstances — made  up  of  disjointed  sketches,  drawn  roughly 
enough  with  sucji  materials  as  were  at  hand  during  rude  voyaging, 
aiming  not  at  any  depth  of  coloring  or  sentiment,  the  book  will 
doubtless  remind  some  of  those  canvas  daubings,  termed  Pano- 
ramas, wherein  much  is  seen  for  a  small  amount ;  but  which,  it  is 
to  be  hoped,  if  lacking  in  those  grand  touches  which  only  a  master 
can  produce,  do  yet  serve  in  their  way  to  convey  to  the  hurried 
gazer  a  sort  of  floating  idea  of  the  beauty  or  richness  of  the  real 
scene. 

And,  furthermore,  so  trivial  are  the  incidents,  so  superficial  the 
view  of  character  and  life  herein  displayed — necessarily  so  where 
people  live  only  as  it  were  en  passaii/,  where  the  depth  and 
earnestness  of  home-life  is  entirely  wanting — that  a  much  readier 
pen  might  well  falter  in  its  attempt  to  give  any  interest  to  scenes 
80  barren  of  material.     A  land,  too, 

"  Where  ihe  rose  iinver  blooms  "n  foir  woman's  wan  cheek  ;" 


viii  PREFACE. 

about  which  cluster  in  the  minds  of  luanj'  the  most  melancholy 
associations  :  which  travellers  approach  with  dread,  and  look  back 
upon  with  trembling  ;  has  ratlior  too  strong  "  a  scent  of  mortality" 
about  it  to  awaken  any  great  warmth  of  enthusiasm  or  poetic 
fervor  in  its  description — 

"  For  dangers  uncounted  are  clustering  there, 
The  pestilence  stalks  uncontrolled  ; 
Strange  poisons  are  borne  on  the  soft  languid  air. 
And  lurk  in  each  leafs  fragrant  fold." 

But  the  scenes  portrayed  in  the  ensuing  pages  (and  this  is  the 
only  point  upon  which  the  author  relies  in  palliation  of  his 
offence)  belong  now  mostly  to  the  past.  A  new  leaf  in  the 
character  of  this  portion  of  the  popular  route  to  California  has 
been  opened :  where  but  recently  the  slow  boat  toiled  up  against 
the'  swift  current  of  the  river,  or  the  languid  mule  dragged  his 
weary  feet  over  the  rough  mountain  passes,  the  iron  horse  snorts 
defiantly  as  he  rushes  on  his  imdeviating  course.  Yet  a  few 
short  years  and  what  is  herein  written  will  perchance  be  read 
merely  as  a  pleasant  fiction.  Perchance,  too  (and  should  this  ever 
prove  to  be  the  case,  the  writer  feels  that  it  will  not  have  been 
wholly  in  vain 

"  He  wore  his  sruidal-shoon  and  scallop-shell"), 

on  some  far  future  rainy  day,  some  child  of  a  coming  generation, 
navigating  wearily  through  his  fathers  lumber-garret  in  quest  of 
strange  adventures,  shall  stnuible  upon  a  copy  of  this  work  whicli 
the  unappreciative  trunk-makers  have  passed  by,  and  wliile  poring 
over  its  pages  shall  believe  with  childish  credulity  that  all  which 
he  finds  therein  recorded  really  happened  ;  and  then  reviewing  in 
his  little  mind  the  many  blessings  which  took  their  rise  in  golden 
Califoniin,  and  like  a  generous  river  made  the  countries  fertile 
through  which  they  rolled,  shall  feel  a  glow  of  admiration  and 
gratitude  towards  those  brave  pioneers  who,  amid  so  much  hard- 
ship and  self-denial,  founded  the  great  Empire  of  the  West. 

It  may  be  proper  to  add  here,  as  nn  explanatory  note,  that  the 
succeeding  pages,  though  not  necessarily  connected  with  or 
hinging  upon  any  preceding  ones,  were  nevertheless  originally 
composed  as  a  kind  of  sequel  to  a  work  entitled  "The  Camkt. 
Hunt." 


Salem  (Mass.),  Dec.  I,  1852. 


l^ife  on  t|c  |st|nnts. 


CHAPTER  I. 


LIFE    IN    DISHABILLE. 


¥E  saw  Chagres  under  peculiar  circumstances.  At  the 
time  of  our  arrival  there  the  California  fever  had  reached 
its  extreme  height,  but  was  still  raging  with  unabated  fury. 
Every  day  some  steamer  or  sailing  craft  from  our  Atlantic 
cities,  and  occasionally  one  of  the  latter  class  from  some  French 
or  English  port,  would  enter  and  disgorge  its  mass  of  eager  life 
upon  the  sandy  point,  and  hurry  back  again  for  a  fresh 
cargo.  I  doubt  if  ever  slave  ships,  in  the  palmiest  days  of 
that  hellish  traflBc,  were  crowded  to  the  extent  of  some 
of  the  Chagres  packets  during  this  period  of  the  C;difornia 
immigration. 

It  was  a  strange  and  exciting  scene  to  look  upon.  Fre- 
quently after  coffee  in  the  morning  I  used  to  stroll  down  to 
the  point,  and  watching  my  chance  for  a  seat  upon  the 
piazza  of  the  Empire  City  Hotel,  would  light  my  cigar,  and 
gaze  for  hours  unsated  upon  that  wonderful  kaleidoscope  of 
human  life.     No  romance  that  I  ever  read  possessed  for  me 

1* 


10  LIFE    ON    THE    ISTHMUS. 

half  the  interest  of  that  ever-changing  scene.  In  the  forms 
ijefore  and  around  nie,  all  nations,  ages,  and  conditions  of 
life  were  represented,  and  in  such  grotesque,  and,  for  the  most 
part,  uncouth  costumes !  Seeing  them  thus  luuklled  toge- 
ther, the  rude  and  the  gentle,  the  young  and  ruddy,  and 
jnany  another  decrcpid  with  age,  the  man  of  robust  health 
and  the  tottering  invalid,  "  the  tender  and  delicate  woman" 
and  the  boisterous  ruffian  of  the  lowest  class,  the  virtuous 
and  the  vicious,  of  all  grades  and  conditions,  meeting  for 
once  in  life  upon  a  common  ground,  about  to  take  from 
thence  a  common  departure  with  the  same  physical  end  in 
view — alike  in  that  one  thing,  but  so  ditteront  in  all  else — 
seeing  all  this,  I  felt  sometimes  a  chilly  questioning  at  heart 
as  to  whither  this  state  of  things  was  tending.  There 
seemed  to  be  a  general  breaking  up  of  the  accustomed  forms 
of  life,  a  disappearance  of  old  land-marks  ;  and  I  found  my- 
self inwardly  asking,  if  in  this  lack  of  the  sanctities  of  home, 
the  quiet  intercourse  of  friends,  and  all  that  is  tranquillizing 
and  ennobling  in  literature,  science,  and  art,  thei'e  was  no 
danger  that  somehow  in  this  rude  and  unavoidable  inter- 
mingling of  the  purest  and  vilest,  characters  might  become 
confounded,  and  the  soul,  wanting  its  accustomed  food,  lose 
something  of  its  better  nature,  and  allow  "  climbing  impurity 
to  stain  the  empyrean."  The  depressing  state  of  the  atmo- 
sphere, and  the  great  avalanches  of  clouds  that  every  now 
and  then  came  rolling  down  the  hill  sides,  hiding  the  green 
slopes,  and  deluging  everything  to  the  core,  doubtless  con- 
tributed to  this  mood  of  mind.  ]3ut  such  grave  questions 
seldom  troubled  me  long — how  could  they — in  Chagres  ? 

There  was  also  a  comic  side  to  the  picture.  The  unac- 
countable style  in  which  all  were  permitted  to  dress  totally 
prevented  a  recognition  of  a  person's  grade,  and  gave  rise  to 
some  misunderstandings  ;  a  retired  judge  might  be  accosted 


LIFE  IN  DISHABILLE.  11 

as  a  boatman,  aud  au  ex-Governor  from  the  States  was 
equally  subjected  to  be  taken  for  a  porter.  People  seemed 
in  some  cases  as  much  sui'prised  at  finding  themselves  there 
as  at  anything  else ;  and  cast  doubtful  glances  at  the  steam- 
ships outside,  wallowing  and  rolling  in  the  swell,  hardly  will- 
ing to  acknowledge  to  themselves,  that  they  were  the  same 
craft  that  looked  so  gallant  and'  inviting  at  their  piers  in 
New  York. '  Occasionally  there  were  some  droll  rencontres, 
when  one  would  see  the  countenance  of  a  friend  emerge  from 
beneath  a  coarse  black  and  white  Chagres  sombrero,  or 
above  the  glowing  folds  of  a  red  baize  shirt.  "  Hilloa,"  was 
the  general  salutation,  "  you  here  ?"  whfch  was  ordinarily 
answered  by  a  similar  interrogatory  more  emphatically 
uttered,  "  you  here  ?"  What  else  indeed  could  be  said  under 
the  circumstances  ?  Mild  looking  men,  inoffensive  quiet 
people  by  nature,  were  straying  upon  the  beach  in  the 
character  of  brigands,  with  a  belt  or  sash  about  their  waist,  ■ 
stuck  full  of  pistols  and  bowie  knives,  on  the  qui  vive 
for  those  attacks  which  had  been  predicted  by  their  quondam 
neighbors  ;  and  exemplary  young  and  middle-aged  men,  hmv 
rying  to  and  fro  on  all  sides,  showed  plainly  by  their 
gait  and  gestures  that  they  had  "  con-ected  the  water  of 
Chagres  river"  much  too  freely.  Here  would  be  a  party  of 
four  or  five,  all  talking  to  the  same  "  native"  in  as  many 
tongues,  and  the  said  native,  nowise  abashed  at  not  being  the 
proficient  in  languages  which  he  was  taken  for,  putting  all 
five  otF  quietly  with  his  invariable  "  poco  tiempo ;"  and  there 
would  be  a  foreign  set,  French  doubtless,  seated  in  the  stern 
sheets  of  their  "  dug-out,"  just  leaving  to  go  up  river,  cosily 
eating  sardines  and  tossing  off  their  bumpers  of  claret  to 
the  inspiring  notes  of  a  polka,  which  one  of  the  party  was 
performing  on  a  brass  hoin.  There  are  always  some  torpid- 
livered  people  in  every  crowd,  as  a  kind  of  ballast  to  the 


12  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

spirits  of  the  whole.  On  this  particular  occasion  one  of 
these  fellows  observed,  that  "  the  music  would  be  pretty  well 
out  of  that  mounseer  before  he  got  to  Gatoun,"  which  ano- 
ther followed  up  by  saying  that  "  he  reckoned  that  chap's 
horn  could  be  bought  cheap  next  morning;"  whereupon 
a  very  bad-looking  man  clinched  the  whole  matter  by 
observing  with  an  oath  that  "  that  fellow  would  dance  over 
his  grandmother's  grave." 

It  was  a  great  place  for  the  study  of  character.     On  step- 

■7 ping  ashore  at  Chagres  men  instinctively  shook  off  the  crust 
of  conventionality,  and  came  out  in  projrrid  persona.  I  have 
heard  that  a  ship  brings  out  a  man's  true  character,  and  the 
.same  is  also  affirmed  of  a  prison.  I  think,  however,  that  in 
our  time  the  palm  must  be  ceded  to  Chagres.     There  was  in 

"Tthis  place  such  au  exquisite  refinement  of  bad  lodgings  and 
worse  fare,  such  an  affluence  of  buggy  cots,  and  such  a 
poverty  of  wholesome  bed-clothing,  such  filth  on  the  levee 
and  the  beach,  and  such  a  sickening  stench  in  the  air — oh, 
but  it  was  a  tine  place  to  bring  out  the  salient  points  of  a 
man's  character  !  To  be  jolly  under  such  circumstances,  one 
would  think  would  require  more  than  the  philosophy  of  even 
Mark  Tapley.  And  yet  there  were  jolly  folks  at  Chagres — 
aye,  even  among  the  residents ;  men  who  did  not  live,  but 
clung  as  it  were  desperately  to  the  very  tail-end  of  existence ; 
there  were  some  cheerful,  if  not  happy,  standing  by  their  post 
as  nobly  as  any  warrior  of  old,  or  any  Casablanca  in  the 
annals  of  song. 

And  these  same  gold-seekere,  in  their  outre  guise,  with  all 
their  absurd  misconceptions,  their  petty  fault-findings,  and 
their  fretful  impatience,  had  about  them,  on  the  whole,  an  air 
of  troubled  grandeur  that  was  really  heart-touching.  "What- 
ever might  have  been  their  respective  aims,  hopes,  or  pros- 
pects, they  were  all  wanderers  on  the  earth.     They  all  had 


LIFE  IN  DISHABILLE.  13 

the  seal  of  inquietude  set  upon  their  faces,  of  which  the 
querulous  Childe  says, 

"  This  makes  the  madmen,  who  have  made  men  mad 
By  their  contagion." 

Whatever  might  have  been  their  respective  troubles  or 
diseases,  they  were  all  drinking  the  same  bitter  cup  of  medi- 
cine. Some  were  there  to  gratify  a  morbid  restlessness  of 
body,  some  urged  on  by  a  hungering  of  the  soul  for  change 
amid  excitement  which 

"  But  once  kindled,  quenchless  evermore, 
Preys  upon  high  adventure,  nor  can  tire 
Of  auglit  but  rest,  a  fever  at  the  core 
Fatal  to  him  who  bears,  to  all  who  ever  bore." 

Others  had  left  home  blind  to  the  rosy  smiles  of  children, 
and  steeled  against  the  passionate  sobs  of  loving  wives, 
resolved  to  be  back,  if  there  was  any  faith  to  be  put  in  man's 
best  endeavors;  any  just  God  in  the  high  heavens'  to  drive 
for  ever  the  wolf  from  the  fold  of  the  tender  objects  of  their 
love :  and  others  still  had  come  hither  from  a  harder  neces- 
sity, because  they  were  a  burden  in  their  own  homes,  and 
would  have  gone  anywhere  rather  than  longer  have  met 
glances  so  changed  in  those  whom  they  still  loved.  And 
yet  another  and  more  melancholy  class  than  any  of  these, 
because  more  incomprehensible,  were  those  w^ho  sought  here 
a  refuge  from  themselves,  from  their  own  wicked  thoughts, 
content  to  spend  their  days  amidst  all  physical  hardships, 
"  to  sleep  amidst  infection,"  to  die  rather  than  go  back  to  the 
solitary  companionship  of  their  own*souls. 

Over  and  above  everything  else  one  great  feeling  precl^mi- 
nated  in  the  minds  of  men  at  Chagres,  an  impatience  to  be 
away.     People  no  sooner  landed  on  the  beach  than  they 


U  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

were  bustling  round  to  be  olt"  again.     Tliey  ail  seemed  to 
y  r/dread  that  one  moment  of  too  long  delay,  when  the  malaria 
'     \   poison  should  enter  their  blood,  and  laugh  defiantly  at  the 
I  cunningest  remedies.     Yet  this  very  feeling,  so  antagonistic 
to  kindliness  and  courtesy,  to  the  credit  of  our  r.ature  be  it 
said,  ditiused  a  sentiment  of  brotherhood  throughout  this 
incongruous  mass.     Men  gazed  shudderingly  at  the  too  sig- 
nificant hillocks  everywliere  visible,   and  looked  into  each 
other's  faces,  saying  pitifully,  "and  i/ou  may  be  the  next;" 
adding  with  an  inward  tremoi-,  "  or  I — and  may  need  your 
assistance  in  the  last  offices  to  my  humanity." 

"But  some  are  dead,  and  sonic  are  gone, ' 
And  some  are  scattered  and  alone ; 
*  *  *  -X-  * 

And  some  are  in  a  far  countree. 

And  some  all  restlessly  at  home  ; 
But  never  more,  oh,  never  we 
Shall  meet  to  revel  and  to  roam." 

These  lines,  from  the  "  Siege  of  Corinth,"  immediately 
succeeding  those  which  I  have  chosen  as  a  motto  for  this 
work,  convey  to  my  mind  so  truthful  an  idea  of  the  proba- 
ble final  disposition  of  this  caravan  of  liuman  beings,  that  I 
have  no  inclination  to  enter  into  a  description  of  their  more 
common-place  characteristics.  IIow  could  I  ever  hope,  by 
so  doing,  to  give  any  accurate  idea  of  the  wonderful  pano- 
rama to  which  I  have  but  alluded  ?  It  will  be  better  and 
more  becoming  in  me  to  proceed  at  once  with  my  plain, 
matter-of-fact  narrative,  leaving  analysis  and  generalizations 
to  more  skilful  pens. 

Amid  this  chaos  of  moral  life,  there  were,  nevertheless, 
some  drifting  fragments  of  a  better  state  of  things  occasion- 
ally to  be  discovered,  and  these  won  the  eye  of  the  observer 
as  much  by  their  rarity  as  by  their  own  inherent  beauty. 


VALE  ASD  PARKINS.  Id 


CHAPTER   11. 

VALE    AND     PARKINS. 

ONE  morning  I  was  sitting  at  my  nsual  place  of  resort  on 
the  piazza  of  the  Emj)ire  City  Hotel.  It  was  rather  a 
livelier  day  than  ordinary — that  is,  I  mean  livelier  on  shore,  for 
there  was  a  fresh  northerly  wind  blowing,  which  so  tore  up  the 
surface  of  the  sea  and  caused  it  to  break  so  furiously  upon 
the  bar  and  beach,  that  the  boatmen,  in  spite  of  their  restless 
and  daring  spirit  of  activity,  had  not  deemed  it  prudent  to 
venture  out.  There  was  a  rumor  current  on  the  point  that 
one  boat  had  started  for  the  steamer  Georgia  early  in  the 
morning,  and  been  capsized  in  the  breakers  off  the  second 
point  beyond  San  Lorenzo,  and  that  all  on  board  had  per- 
ished. This  might  have  been  true  or  not,  but  no  one  cared 
to  run  any  risk  in  investigating  the  matter ;  the  lost,  who- 
ever they  were,  would  never  be  missed  in  Chagres,  and  as" 
for  the  suddenness  of  their  departure,  why,  it  was  not 
thought  of,  while  so  many  were  dying  just  as  suddenly  in 
our  very  midst. 

There  were  three  steamers  outside,  waiting  passengers ;  and 
the  large  number  collected  to  embark,  and  the  momentary 
arrivals  of  boats  down  the  river  with  passengers  also  home- 
ward bound,  gave  a  brisk  aspect  to  the  social  features  of  life 
on  shore.  There  were,  besides,  not  a  few  unfortunate  indi- 
viduals, who  had  arrived  at  Chagres  by  these  same  steamers, 
and  who,  from  various  reasons,  had  not  yet  got  away,  on 


16  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

their  journey  across  tlie  Isthiuus.  These  two  classes  of 
people  possessed  great  interest  for  each  other,. for  while  the 
.outward  bound  had  much  to  ask  of  the  returned  Cahfornians, 
and  hung  upon  their  words  as  if  their  future  life  were  being 
shaped  by  them,  and  even  looked  with  a  kind  of  religious 
awe  upon  their  mud-soiled  garments,  and  haggard,  toil-worn 
faces,  these  latter,  in  turn,  regarded  their  questioners  with 
looks  of  mingled  pity,  wonder,  and  contempt.  It  seemed  so 
strange  to  them  that  men  having  good  clothes  to  wear,  ruddy 
complexions,  and  homes  where  they  might  have  stayed, 
were  hurrying  impatiently  to  get  a  sip  of  that  same  cup  of 
hardship  and  self-denial  which  they  had  thought  to  have  al- 
most drained  to  the  dregs.  They  had  forgotten  what  brought 
them  out  in  a  similar  manner,  it  was  so  long  ago,  and  so 
many  more  recent  and  doubtless  more  palpable  troubles  had 
been  theirs.  But  the  "  dust "  of  these  same  returning  gold- 
hunters  was  a  greater  argument  in  favor  of  taking  their  jjast 
course,  than  anything  they  could  adduce  to  offset  it,  because, 
in  the  minds  of  the  outward-bound,  as  one  of  them  convi- 
vially  observed,  it  went  right  home  to  the  part  affected,  like 
champagne  after  sea-sickness. 

It  was  a  lively  day,  and  yet  it  would  not  have  been  lively 
anywhere  but  in  Chagres  ;  and  even  there,  there  was  a 
dreariness,  a  baldness,  and  discomfort  about  its  livehn ess  that 
modified  it  very  much.  There  was  less  rain  than  usual  that 
morning,  but  still  enough  to  keep  everything  in  a  very  unde- 
sirable state  of  dampness.  In  walking  in  from  our  camp,  I 
had  been  saturated  sufficiently  to  take  the  chivalry  pretty 
well  out  of  any  man.  But  I  had  afterwards  crossed  to  the 
native  side  of  the  town,  to  purchase  some  eggs  and  chickens 
for  ourselves,  and  corn  for  the  camels ;  and  seeing  everybody 
else  in  the  like  situation,  had  come  to  take  it,  as  indeed  I 
did  cvervthing:  at  that  time,  as  a  matter  of  course. 


VALE  AND  PARKINS.  Il 

As  the  day  progressed,  the  gale  increased.  From  where 
I  sat,  there  was  a  fine  view  of  the  sea  and  beach  ;  hut 
if  the  reader  should  now  visit  Chagres,  he  would  find  a 
great  change  in  this  part  of  the  town  :  many  new  buildings 
have  been  erected  between  where  the  Empire  City  Hotel  -- 
tlien  stood  and  the  sea,  and  the  view  from  its  piazza  extends 
now  but  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  At  this  time, 
however,  I  could  see  as  far  as  our  camel  encampment  on 
the  left,  with  a  high  range  of  hills  shutting  in  the  view 
beyond,  the  long  beach,  the  landing  point  in  front,  and 
the  sea,  stretching  to  the  horizon,  bounded  on  the  right  by 
the  hills  and  fort  of  San  Lorenzo,  and  terminating  in  a 
gentle  slope  leading  to  the  native  town,  between  which  and 
my  point  of  survey  flowed  the  Chagres  river. 

I  shall  not  soon  foi'get  bow  gradually  but  steadily  the 
wind  kept  rising  that  day,  and  how  the  great  sea  heaved 
and  thundered  beneath  the  touchings  of  its  mighty  hand ; 
how  the  rough,  hairy  breakers  doubled  and  redoubled  in 
size  and  fury,  lashing  the  resounding  shore  with  their  white 
and  out-spread  arms,  and  how  men  came  down  to  gaze  at 
them  as  at  a  bristling  army  that  hemmed  them  in  from  all 
they  loved,  and  clasped  eacb  other's  hands  convulsively, 
glad  to  know  that  there  were  others  in  the  world  as  insig- 
nificant and  lonesome  as  themselves.  The  steamships  mj^ 
the  bay  rolled  till  j'ou  could  see  their  decks  as  plainly  as 
if  you  were  on  board ;  and  boats  were  torn  from  their 
fastenings,  carried  out  by  the  retreating  waves,  and  again 
whirled  up  high  and  dry  upon  the  beach.  There  were 
some  old  wrecks  along  the  shore,  through  whose  worm- 
eaten  decrepit  timbers  the  sea  caine  rushing  with  a  perfect 
howl,  writhing  in  and  out  of  portholes  and  scuppers  in 
long  tortuous  lines  like  angry  serpents  ;  and  men  gazed 
likewise  on   these  black,  sepulchral  wrecks,  and  shuddered 


18  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

again,  and  looked  back  beseechingly  to  the  merciless  ocean, 
and  their  quiet  homes  seemed  further  off  than  ever.  The 
bluff  where  the  fort  stood,  Avas  au  especial  mark  for  the  sea ; 
and  its  dark,  slimy  rocks,  as  they  emerged  from  eacli  strug- 
gle with  the  tempestuous  waves,  looked  each  time  blacker 
and  more  defiant.  But  on  the  bar,  what  a  perfect  madness  of 
waters  !  There  was  something  awful  about  it — as  if  all  the 
many  bones  which  the  sea  had  ever  stolen  from  the  warm, 
green  earth  were  moving  in  their  deep  beds,  and  had 
contributed  something  to  its  ghastly  whiteness. 

I  was  smoking  and  looking  about  me — now  in  contem- 
plation of  the  turbulent  scene,  now  in  studying  the  equally 
turbulent  forms  of  humanity  grouped  around,  when  a  man, 
somewhat  remarkable  in  all  the  crowd,  presented  himself 
before  me.  He  was  a  tall,  long-limbed,  loose-made  man,  with 
a  large  head,  and  a  profusion  of  sandy  hair  and  beard. 
He  was  attired  in  a  suit  of  pepper-and-salt  doeskin, 
with  a  wash-leather  money-belt  strapped  outside  about 
his  waist,  and  ornamented  with  a  pair  of  revolvers.  He 
wore  a  light  felt  hat,  with  a  broad  brim,  similar  to  those 
extensively  used  in  California.  But  he  was  no  returning 
gold-seeker.  It  was  easy  enough  to  see  that,  in  the  newness 
of  his  garments,  the  exposure  of  his  money-belt,  the  ominous 
presence  of  his  pistols,  and  particularly  in  the  fresh,  ruddy 
style  of  his  countenance.  He  had  a  remarkable  face.  It 
was  large,  and  each  feature  had  its  share  ;  and  his  beard, 
which  looked,  indeed,  more  like  a  mane  than  a  beard — the- 
lion's  part.  There  was  nothing  else  about  him  that  resem- 
bled a  lion  very  much,  except  his  name,  which  I  afterwards 
found  out  was  Sampson — Sampson  Vale.  He  looked 
complacent,  voluble,  good-natured,  fickle-minded,  easy  to 
take  as  well  as  give  an  affront,  a  lover  of  a  certain  kind  of 
etiquette  nevertheless,  and,  on  the  whole,  rather  addicted  to 
the  milkiness  of  human  nature.     Such,  at  all  events,  was, 


VALi:  AND  PAfiKINS.  10 

as  nearly  as  1  can  recollect,  my  lirst  impression  of  the  man. 
There  happened  to  be  a  chair  vacant  at  my  side,  which  he 
very  coolly  settled  into,  and,  laying  his  right  hand  upon  my 
left  knee,  looked  mo  full  in  the  face,  and  inquired  if  I 
belonged  to  the  camel  party. 

I  rephed  in  the  affirmative. 

"Do  you  know,  sir,"  continued  he,  raising  his  hand  from 
my  knee,  and  stroking  his  beard  therewith,  at  the  same  time 
smacking  his  lips  as  if  in  internal  relish  of  the  sentiment 
he  was  about  to  utter,  "  do  you  know,  sir,  that  T  have 
a  good  opinion  of  that  enterprise  ?" 

I  replied,  that  never  having  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  or 
hearing  of  him  before,  I  was  really  not  aware  of  it. 

"  It  is  nevertheless  a  fact,"  continued  he.  "  As  our 
acquaintance  is  of  short  duration,  I  suppose  that  it  will  be 
necessary  for  nae  to  inform  you  that  I  was  educated  as  a 
blacksmith" — 

"  Are  you  the  learned  blacksmith  ?"  inquired  I,  interrupt- 
ing him. 

"  Why,  not  exactly,"  said  he,  "  the  fact  is,  I  am  a  black- 
smith by  profession — but,  like  many  people  in  thi^  world, 
I  don't  always  put  my  profession  into  practice." 

Here  he  stopped,  seeming  to  have  lost  the  thread  of  his 
discourse,  and  smacked  his  hps  for  some  moments  with  infi- 
nite relish. 

"  Since  leaving  my  trade,"  resumed  he,  when  he  came  to 
himself,  "  I  have  been  into  a  little  of  everything,  and  ought 
to  know  something  about  the  world." 

"  Ought,  indeed,"  observed  a  small-sized  man  standing  by 
his  side,  whom  I  had  not  before  observed  ;  "  but  you  never 
will,  for  you'll  never  stick  to  any  one  thing  long  enough  to 
get  more  than  a  smattering  of  it." 

"Solomon  Parkins,"  said  the  sandy-haired  man,  rising  to 


20  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS.^ 

Lis  extreme  height,  and  looking  clown  pitifully  on  the  shorter 
individual  at  his  side,  at  the  same  time  stroking  liis  beard 
and  smacking  his  lips  with  an  appearance  of  deep-seated 
self  satisfaction,  "  are  you  aware,  sir,  that  in  attempting  to 
injui-e  me  in  the  estimation  of  the  world,  you  are  rendering 
yourself  supremely  ridiculous  ?" 

"  See  here,  old  Quanto,"  retorted  this  modern  Solomon, 
"  nobody  is  deceived  by  that  affectation  of  superiority 
on  your  part.  So,  in  future,  when  you  speak  to  me,  please  to 
lay  aside  that  fatherly  style,  and  recollect  that  the  firm  of 
Vale  and  Parkins  is  dissolved,  and  that  the  junior  partner  is 
equal  to  the  senior  any  day  1" 

"  Poor  Parkins,"  observed  Vale,  in  a  tone  of  well  feigned 
commiseration  ;  he  then  whispered  in  my  ear,  "  but  you  will 
please  to  excuse  tliis  in  him ;  for  the  poor  fellow  is  a  little — 
a  little — you  understand — wandering  like  in  tis  wits." 

I  saw  that  I  had  "  struck  a  vein,"  as  the  Californians  say, 
and  took  a  more  minute  survey  of  my  new  acquaintances. 
The  first,  I  now  remarked,  in  addition  to  wdaat  I  had  already 
observed,  had  a  rapid  restless  manner  of  glancing  about  him, 
as  if  he  took  in  everything  there  was  to  be  seen,  and  seized 
at  once  upon  its  more  palpable  features.  There  was  no 
repose  in  his  countenance  to  indicate  that  he  was  weighing 
in  his  mind  the  intrinsic  worth  or  uses  of  what  his  eyes  saw, 
much  less  that  he  was  suggesting  to  himself  any  possible 
dark  side  to  the  picture.  His  coiiipanion,  for  companions 
they  were,  and  of  long  standing,  I  saw  at  a  glance  was  run  in 
quite  a  different  mould.  Although  he  probably  had  nothing 
of  the  old  Solomon  about  him  but  his  name,  yet  it  was  very 
evident  that  he  was  provided  with  a  con  for  every  2^)'o  of 
his  former  business  associate.  He  was  attired  in  a  similar 
manner  to  his  partner,  even  to  the  pistols  and  felt  hat,  from 
wliich  fact  it  was  fair  to  suppose  at  first  sight  that  he  could 


VAT^E  AND  I'ARKINS.  21 

not  help  entertaining  a  kind  of  respect  tur  iiis  opinions, 
which  nevertheless  troubled  him  ns  :i  weakness  ie[»udiated 
by  his  better  judgment. 

As  I  afterwards  found  out,  these  men  liad  bet-u  in  business 
together  as  blacksmiths  some  years  previous  it»  a  town  in 
Maine,  that  the  former  liad  been  the  active  manager  and 
financier  of  the  firm,  and  that  in  consequence  of  his  specula- 
tive tendencies  and  absurd  habits,  complete  ruin  had 
gradually  overtaken  them,  in  the  words  of  Parkins,  ''  of 
course."  That  they  had  then  dissolved  their  business  con- 
nexion, and  since  then,  Mr.  Parkins  had  been  adrift  on  the 
world,  his  naturally  gloomy  disposition  seeing  so  many 
obstacles  in  every  new  adventure  which  presented  itself,  as  to 
discourage  him  from  entering  upon  it  altogether;  while 
Mr.  Vale,  on  the  other  hand,  with  his  buoyant  character  and 
addiction  to  the  speculative,  had  dipped  into  a  hundred 
different  enterprises,  but  ahvays  with  the  same  unsatisfactory 
result.  And  yet  although  Parkins  lost  no  opportunity  of 
"  showing  up  Vale,"  as  he  expressed  it,  and  never  ceased  to 
reproach  him  as  tlie  cause  of  all  his  misfortunes,  yet  having 
been  once  within  his  influence,  he  had  found  it  impossible  to 
withdraw  himself;  and  so  followed  him  in  all  his  mad  or 
visionary  speculations,  as  a  kind  of  unofficial,  junior  partner, 
living  in  an  atmosphere  of  sombre  retrospections,  and  drawing- 
sustenance  from  a  source  which  must  have  sadly  affected  his 
digestion.  If  Vale  had  been  a  man  of  thoughtful,  brooding 
temperament,  he  would  have  looked  upon  Parkins  as  his  evil 
genius,  destined  ever  more  to  haunt  him,  a  gloomy  shadow 
always  eating  into  liis  life's  sunshine ;  but  as  it  was,  be 
regarded  him  merely  as  an  unpleasant  mosquito,  or  blue- 
bottle, buzzing  about,  and  occasionally  butting  against  the 
polished  surface  of  his  character — a  troublesome  little  object 
to  be  sure,  but  one  that  could  easily  be  brushed  away. 


22  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

We  were  now  joined  by  a  third  party,  a  man  equally  tall 
with  Vale,  but  thick-set,  hard-featured,  and  with  black  hair  and 
beard.  He  might  have  been  a  Califoruian  or  anything  else 
that  savored  of  the  desperate.      He  was  a  bad-looking  man. 

"  How  about  he  the  snake  ?"  inquired  he  of  Vale. 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  answered  Sampson.  "  I  left  him  safe  in 
his  basket,  but  I  am  a  little  in  this  way  about  the  snake 
business, — that  is,  I  am  in  this  way  between  the  snake  and 
the  camel  business."  Here  Mr.  Vale  held  out  his  right  arm, 
and  placing  the  palm  of  his  hand  j^erpendicularly  in  the  air, 
moved  it  regularly  from  right  to  left,  and  vice  versa,  intend- 
ing to  hint  thereby  that  he  was  in  a  state  of  indecision  on 
the  subject,  or  rocking  gently  between  the  two. 

"  I'll  satisfy  you  on  the  matter,"  said  the  man. 

"  That  won't  require  much,"  observed  Parkins,  with  a  half 
sneer,  "  but  what  are  those  objects  floating  in  the  river  and 
drifting  towards  the  bar  ?  They  look  to  me  like  human 
bodies." 

"  Carcasses !"  observed  the  bad-looking  fellow  brutally. 
*'  They're  not  worth  saving.  If  they  had  dust  in  their  belts 
they  wouldn't  float.  But  come,  it  blows  too  much  of  a 
snorter  here,  let  us  go  round  to  the  Irving  and  look  after  the 
snake.     Drink  anything  ?" 

I  declined  the  invitation  at  once,  from  an  unwillingness  to 
drink  with  such  a  wicked-looking  man.  Parkins  had 
evidently  a  desire  to  indulge,  but  did  not  dare  to  undertake 
it  without  the  example  of  Vale,  who  also  declining,  the 
snake  proprietor  stepped  up  to  the  bar  alone.  His  manner 
of  calling  for  liquor  was  characteristic.  Putting  on  his 
sternest  expression,  he  listened  his  glance  upon  a  timid 
young  man  among  the  waiters,  and  throwing  down  Iiis  dime, 
said  in  a  measured  Websterian  tone,  "  Let  it  be  plain  brandy 
and  water.'' 


VALE  A.yV  PARKINS.  23 

We  picked  our  way  through  the  crowd  round  to  the 
y/  Irving  House.  On  ascending  to  the  sleeping  room,  where 
were  some  hundred  plain  cot  beds,  in  an  apartment  resem- 
bling the  garret  of  an  Irish  shanty,  we  were  conducted  by 
Vale  to  his  cot,  beneath  which,  he  informed  us,  was  the 
pannier  containing  the  snake.  With  the  crooked  handle  of 
a  cotton  umbrella,  wbich  he  pulled  from  amongst  his  lug- 
gage, he  proceeded  to  fish  out  the  basket  into  daylight,  but 
the  snake  was  gone. 

"  Stepped  out,  by  Jupiter !"  said  Vale.  "  Just  my  luck ; — 
Hilloa !  any  of  you  seen  a  rattlesnake  about  nine  feet  long 
loose  in  this  chamber  ?" 

This  cool  interrogatoiy  was  addressed  to  some  eight  or  ten 
saftron-visaged  invalids,  occupying  as  many  different  cots,  in 
the  various  stages  of  Chagres  fever.  How  far  the  electric 
shock  thereby  communicated  to  their  debilitated  frames 
helped  to  kill  or  cure,  I  cannot  say.  One  poor  devil, 
evidently  near  his  end,  raised  his  weary  head,  and  looking  at 
us  Avith  a  glassy  eye,  inquired  if  he  heard  aright,  and  if  it 
was  really  a  rattlesnake  we  were  in  search  of.  On  being  an- 
swered in  the  aflfirmative,  he  pointed  his  thin,  pale,  skinny 
hand  towards  an  india  rubber  clothes-bag,  leaning  against 
a  cot,  immediately  alongside  of  where  Parkins  was  stting. 

"  There  is  one,"  gasped  he  faintly  ;  "  that  black-whiskered 
man  put  him  there  on  guard.  It's  strange  enough,  but,  oh, 
thank  Heaven,  that  I'm  aot  dehrious  I" 

"  You  miserable  vagabond  !"  yelled  Parkins,  as  he  sprang 
from  his  seat,  giving  us  a  full  view  of  a  fine  specimen  of  the 
scaly  brown  and  white  rattlesnake  of  the  tropics.  "  You  old 
humbug  of  a  Quanto  Valley  that  you  are,  don't  you  see 
you've  like  to  kill  me  with  your  confounded  speculations  ?" 

"  Solomon,"  observed  Vale  in  reply,  "  moderate  your  emo- 
tions, and  don't  make  a  fool  of  yourself  before  strangers." 


24  LIFE  UN  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"  Yes,"  reaiaiked  tlie  .siiuke-tamer ;  "  Yellow  Jack  speaks 
true  ;  seeing  your  clothes-bag  out  in  this  unprotected  style, 
I  put  the  snake  ou  duty.  This  is  one  of  the  uses  to  which 
the  animal  can  be  applied,  and  in  this  he  has  no  superior." 

"  Beautiful  design  !"  exclaimed  Vale,  glancing  at  Parkins 
with  a  triumphant  air ;  "  they  will  be  invaluable  on  the 
Isthmus  and  in  California,  and  I  should  not  be  surprised  to 
hear  yet  of  rattlesnakes  being  put  in  chai-ge  of  baggage  on 
the  railroads  in  the  States." 

"  With  the  Anaconda,"  observed  the  man  of  serpents,  call- 
ing off  the  lattlesnake  from  his  post  of  duty,  and  allowing 
him  to  coil  upon  his  arm,  with  his  head  downwvards,  towards 
his  hand  ;  "  with  the  Anaconda  we  shall  do  greater  things. 
This  reptile,  as  you  arc  probably  aware,  is  possessed  of  great 
fleetness.  He  can  likewise  be  trained  to  run  in  a  given  direc- 
tion. In  the  carrying  of  letters  and  such  valuable  packages 
we  can  make  him  of  great  service." 

"  There's  for  you,  Solomon,"  observed  Vale,  patting  Parkins 
affectionately  between  the  shoulders.  "Anaconda  Line  across 
the  Isthmus  I  Through  before  breakfast !  How  does  that 
strike  you,  eh,  Solomon  'i  I  nm  afraid,  sir,"  continued  he, 
turning  to  me,  "  that  your  camels,  though  doubtless  well 
disposed  beasts,  are  a  httle  behind  the  times." 

While  Mr.  Vale  was  indulging  in  this  bit  of  enthusiasm, 
and  annihilating  space  thus  freely  in  his  own  mind,  the 
wicked  snake-tamer  had,  by  various  little  devices,  .such  as 
pinching  and  pricking  the  snake,  excited  him  to  the  requi- 
site degree  of  rage,  and  raising  his  hand  to  Vale's  right 
shoulder,  as  the  latter  concluded  his  remarks,  let  out  the 
snake  upon  him  in  such  a  decisive  manner  as  caused  him. 
Vale,  to  yell  with  excruciating  pain. 

"  Oh,  I'm  bit !  I'm  bit,"  roared  he,  "  help,  and  be  quick 
with  it,  or  I  shall  die  !" 


VALE  AND  PARKINS.  25 

Then  it  was  tliat  Tarkins,  forgetful  of  all  the  little  matters 
of  dift'erence  between  them,  and  looking  only  to  the  salvation 
of  him  who  had  once  been  his  counsellor  and  friend,  lost 
entirely  what  little  quantum  of  wit  he  ever  possessed,  and 
rushed  at  random  among  the  cots,  calling  upon  somebody, 
anybody,  to  saw  off  Vale's  leg,  or  fetch  an  emetic,  or  do 
something  else  likely  to  be  of  equal  service  in  the  cure  of  a 
venomous  bite. 

Meanwhile,  Sampson  lay  in  his  last  agony  upon  the  cot, 
tossing  to  and  fro,  his  countenance  already  changing  and 
becoming  spotted,  and  frothy  saliva  running  from  his 
mouth ;  there  he  lay,  gazing  beseechingly  upon  the  dark- 
visaged  snake-fancier  at  his  side. 

"  Enough  of  this,"  said  the  latter  at  length,  with  a  kind 
of  disgust  in  liis  tone  ;  and  turning  Vale  over  upon  his  back, 
he  applied  his  mouth  to  the  part  affected,  and  drew  back  the 
poison  which  was  already  dissipated  in  various  parts  of  the 
system.  He  stayed  a  moment  while  his  patient  recovered  in 
a  measure  his  Avonted  quietude,  and  then  carefully  replacing 
the  rattlesnake  in  his  wicker  pannier,  bade  us  a  courteous 
good  morning,  and  went  off  down  stairs. 

"  I  am  glad  he  is  gone,"  said  the  sick  man,  who  had  first 
pointed  the  snake  out  to  us,  "  not  that  there  was  any  fear 
of  his  biting  we,  but  when  a  man's  moments  are  few,  and  he 
needs  all  liis  last  thoughts  for  God  and  himself,  it  somehow 
disconcerts  him  very  much,  to  know  that  there  is  a  live 
rattlesnake  within  a  few  feet  of  his  bed." 

Ye  who  are  about  to  die  at  home,  in  the  midst  of  your 
family  and  friends,  with  everything  made  soft  and  tender  to 
your  aching  limbs,  with  every  harsh  sound  hushed  about 
you,  and  every  wish  gratified  almost  sooner  than  expressed ; 
think  of  this  Chagres  death-bed — for  it  is  no  fancy 
sketch. 

2 


26  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

Vale  recovered  as  speedily  as  he  was  taken  ;  Parkins 
also  recovered — his  wits. 

"  Solomon,"  said  I  to  him  aside,  as  I  was  going  off  (his 
Christian  name  was  so  fitly  inappropriate,  that  one  could  not 
resist  calling  him  by  it);  "  tliis  would  be  a  good  thing  for 
your  old  partner,  if  it  would  learn  him  not  to  meddle  with 
■what  he  doesn't  understand." 

"All  creation  couldn't  do  that,"  returned  Solomon,  "I 
couldn't  myself" 

And  as  if  to  prove  the  truth  of  this  remark,  Sampson 
Vale  thereupon  straightened  himself  up  in  bed,  and  thus 
delivered  himself: — 

"  Solomon,  my  lad,  that  was  well  done,  eh.  If  I  could 
only  learn  that  dodge,  we'd  make  our  fortune  in  the  State 
of  Maine  alone.  I'd  draw  out  the  poison,  and  you'd  be  the 
man  to  be  bitten !" 


.1   [JFE  SAVED.  27 


CHAPTER   III. 


A     LIFE     SAVKD. 


ON  returning  to  tlie  point  I  found  Tom,  who  liad  come  in 
from  the  camp  to  hunt  me  up,  as  he  said,  and  notify 
me  that  dinner  was  nearly  ready. 

"  One  of  those  chickens  that  you  sent  out  by  Ei-Sta," 
observed  he,  "  was  condemned  before  going  to  the  spit. 
Mrs.  Wallack  and  your  wife  were  present  at  the  opening  of 
him  ;  and  his  breakfast,  consisting  of  two  centipedes  and  a 
scorpion,  still  lay  in  his  stomacli  undigested.  I  suppose  they 
did  not  want  to  eat  a  dyspeptic  animal,  as  they  immediately 
ordered  the  fowl  to  be  thrown  away.  In  lieu  of  him  we  are 
to  bave  a  dish  of  green  lizard  frieaseed.'' 

"  Where  is  the  Major  ?"  inquired  I. 

"  You  know  very  well,"  replied  Tom,  "  that  he  never 
leaves  the  camels  except  for  the  woods.  What  a  keen  eye 
for  sport  he  has  to  be  sure !  and  how  he  revels  in  the  bosom 
of  this  voluptuous  nature  !  lie  is  as  fond  of  the  bush  as  you 
are  of  the  town,  Xow,  do  you  know  what  he  said  to  me  this 
morning,  as  I  was  complaining  of  our  delay  in  this  cursed 
hole  ?  '  Tom,'  said  he,  '  a  man  that  don't  enjoy  himself  at 
Chagres,  is  a  disgrace  to  human  nature,  and  a  libel  on  the 
Almighty  I'  Such  a  complimentary  thrust  as  that,  of  course, 
was  a  clincher." 

"  Our  cold-blooded  and  barren  New  England  natures," 
said   I,   "  are   little  fitted   to  sympathize  with  the  impulsive 


28  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

temperament  of  one  born  and  reared,  as  the  Major  has  been, 
among  the  glorious  wild  woods  of  Kentucky." 

"  I  should  think,"  continued  Tom,  "  that  he  had  never 
lived  anywhere  else.  AVhy,  I  have  seen  him  lie  for  hours 
on  the  damp  grass  of  the  woods,  watching  the  birds  at  their 
occupations  or  sport  among  the  boughs,  or  straining  his  eyes 
to  catch  each  particular  shade  of  their  varied  plumage,  as 
they  shot  across  the  only  line  of  sunshine  that  had  ventured 
down  that  lonely  path.  And  I  have  seen,  too,  his  eyes 
glisten,  like  the  green  and  gold  scaly  feathers  on  the  breast 
of  the  king-hummers,  as  he  calls  them,  when  in  some  more 
venturesome  wheel  of  theirs  he  has  discovered  something 
which  he  had  not  previously  seen,  '  some  new  beauty,'  as  he 
terms  it.  Of  course  he  has  a  right  to  enjoy  himself  as  he 
thinks  proper,  and  prefer  his  fifty  varieties  of  the  humming- 
bird even  to  the  golden  cock  of  the  rock,  and  the  crimson 
and  purple-crested  chatterers,  if  he  will ;  but  I  must  say,  I 
should  think  better  of  the  Major's  taste  if  he  did  not  treat 
my  parrots  and  toucan  quite  so  cavalierly  !" 

"  What  do  you  think  of  the  weather,  Tom  ?" 

"  I  think,  if  this  wind  lasts  much  longer,  w6  shall  have  to 
up  stakes,  and  move  our  camp  back  to  the  Indian  village. 
The  spray  comes  at  times  as  far  as  the  old  trees,  and  makes 
the  camels  fairly  wince  under  it." 

"  No  damage  done  yet,  I  hope  ?" 

"  Well,  none  out  there  ;  but  I  must  tell  you  of  a  laugh- 
able affair  which  occurred  on  the  beach  a  few  minutes  before 
you  returned.  You  recollect  that  small  panel  house,  which 
was  bought  by  my  protege.  Bill  Smith,  and  which  he  had 
erected  in  the  rear  of  old  Joe's  house,  there  ?" 

"  Certainly,  and  called  the  Camel  Restaurant." 

"  Exactly,  in  honor  of  our  quadrupeds.  Well,  one  of 
those  outrageous  rolleis,  which  you  sometimea  see,  made  a 


A  LIFE  SAVED.  29 

rush  for  Bill's  liotol,  and,  nut  being  founded  on  a  rock,  as 
you  are  aware,  it  was  swept  away.  It  happened  that  Bill 
and  two  or  three  others  were  inside  at  the  time.  When  the 
establishment  was  found  to  be  fairly  outward  bound,  they 
crept  forth,  amid  the  shouts  of  the  crowd.  By  the  aid  of  a 
coil  of  stout  rigging  which  was  fortunately  at  hand,  they 
were  all  safely  landed.  Just  as  Bill  was  coming  out  of  the 
surf,  his  natural  love  of  the  theatrical  prevailed.  Turning 
to  his  retreating  house,  now  in  a  score  of  pieces,  he  immor- 
talized himself  as  follows  :  '  There  goes  the  homestead — and 
Jim  Wilkins's  boots  with  it — 

' "  And  now  I'm  in  the  world  alone, 
Upon  the  wide,  wide  sea — 
But  why  should  I  for  others  groaa 
When  none  will  sigh  for  me  ?"  ' 

The  effect  was  beautiful :  particularly  as  not  one  in  a  hun- 
dred of  the  crowd  had  ever  read  Byron,  and  the  lines  were, 
consequently,  credited  to  Bill,  as  a  happy  effusion  of  the 
moment." 

"  Your  protege  will  probably  now  fall  back  upon  his 
original  idea,  of  returning  in  the  Double  Eagle  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  "  Bill  has  decided  to  take  the  back  track. 
He  has  seen  the  tip  of  the  elephant's  tail,  and  don't  care 
about  a  further  acquaintance  with  the  animal." 

It  may  be  as  well  here,  for  the  gratification  of  those 
readers  who  like  to  see  things  through  in  every  particular, 
and  who  take  an  especial  interest  in  the  pecuniary  results 
of  adventure,  to  state  that  our  vessel  arrived  at  Chagres 
at  a  very  favorable  moment  for  a  return  freight.  There 
was,  as  I  have  before  said,  a  large  number  of  returning 
Californians,  seeking  passage  to  the  States.  With  the  lum- 
ber which  had  served  for  the  camel  stalls,  we  fitted  up  the 


30  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

vessel's  hold  for  the  accommodation  of  seventy  passengers, 
and  as  she  lay  inside  of  the  bar,  almost  touching  the  levee  in 
fact,  the  desired  number  was  easily  obtained.  I  will  merely 
add  as  a  mercantile  fact,  that  these  passengers  paid  fifty 
dollars  a  head — a  pretty  good  business  for  the  owners  you 
will  allow — and  so  dispose  of  the  Double  Eagle  once  for  all. 
Not  that  I  am  wearv,  either,  of  the  pleasant  associations 
which  will  ever  cluster  about  the  memory  of  her  voyage,  or 
cease  to  think  of  her  as  floating  always  in  an  atmosphere 
of  pleasant  sunshine,  with  some  of  the  desert  sand  still 
lodged  in  the  fibres  of  her  rigging,  and  the  seams  of  her 
d^ck  ;  but  our  life  while  on  board  her  was  a  dreamy  aod 
fanciful  one,  and  we  have  now  come  to  deal  with  hard 
realities. 

It  was  about  time  to  think  of  returning  to  the  camp  for 
dinner,  and  we  should  accordingly  have  taken  uj)  our  line 
of  iTiarch  thitherward,  had  it  not  been  that,  at  that  mo- 
ment, there  was  every  appearance  of  the  approach  of  rain 
— even  while  we  had  been  talking,  the  whole  sky  had 
become  overcast  and  leaden,  settling  gradually  lower  and 
lower,  and  hemming  in  the  horizon  on  every  side,  till  we 
seemed  to  be  sitting  under  a  dark,  shadowy  arch,  within 
which  none  of  heaven's  sunshine  had  ever  come.  Its  radia- 
tion blackened  tlie  sea,  save  where  it  gave  a  pallid  hue  to  its 
whiteness,  and  made  the  shore  look  dark  and  sombre,  and 
changed  also  the  countenances  of  men.  Beyond  its  visible 
sides,  the  mutterings  of  the  thunder  made  one  think  of 
huge  vapory  monsters  bellowing  in  the  black  forests  of 
cloud-land.  And  the  great  breakers,  equally  monstrous, 
now  that  they  seemed  shut  up  within  the  same  gloomy 
confine  as  ourselves,  were  perfectly  frightful  to  listen  to,  as 
they  roared  in  such  solemn  madness  up  the  beach.  There 
was  no  chilliness  attending  this  onset,  vet  men  closed  their 


A  LIFE  SAVED.  31 

lips  firmly,  and  buttoned  their  garments  to  their  chins,  as  if  to 
fight  a  subtle  enemy.  At  last  it  struck,  dancing  gleefully  with 
its  million  feet,  upon  the  ragged  surface  of  the  sea,  trampling 
over  the  roofs,  and  bristling  up  against  the  sides  of  houses, 
or  hurrying  headlong  in  close  array  down  the  channels  of 
the  street.  And  now  God  help  the  invalids  under  those 
same  roofs,  for  there  is  not  one  of  them  but  has  his  own 
particular  rivulet,  to  give  a  chillier  cast  to  his  discomfort ; 
and  God  help  those  who  are  on  the  river,  among  whom 
there  may  be  women  and  children,  for  a  thousand  streams 
are  rushing  from  the  mountains  to  swell  its  tide,  which  will 
soon  run  like  a  mill-sluice,  and  drifting  trunks  of  trees  and 
snags,  and  fearful  eddies  at  sudden  bends,  are  hard  things  to 
navigate  amongst.  And  those  poor  devils,  who  have  no 
change  of  clothing  (and  there  are  many  such  here),  who  are 
liable  to  lie  down  to-night  in  their  wet  garments  on  damp  beds, 
and  wake  in  the  morning  with  an  ague  that  shall  stick  to  their 
bones  for  years,  are  they  not  also  to  be  pitied  and  prayed  for? 
"  Sail  ho !"  shouted  a  voice,  as  the  vapory  mass  dis- 
solved itself,  and  disclosed  the  old  horizon  far  out  seaward 
— a  strange  cry  at  such  a  time,  and  a  hazardous  navigator 
it  must  be,  who  would  not  claw  off  a  rock-bound  coast,  with 
the  devil's  own  roadstead  at  the  best,  in  such  a  gale,  and 
with  dirty  Aveather  to  boot.  It  was  nevertheless  no  false 
alarm ;  a  large  ship,  under  reefed  jib  and  close  reefed  top- 
sails, was  bearing  directly  down  for  the  anchorage.  She 
came  upon  our  vision  opportunely  enough,  stepping  with  such 
a  fearless  gallant  air  into  our  storm-drenched  circle,  another 
connecting  link  with  the  bright  world  away.  As  she  round- 
ed to  before  dropping  anchor,  careening  in  the  process  till 
her  yard-arms  touched  the  water,  and  showing  upon  deck 
the  usual  crowd  of  passengers,  she  displayed  at  her  mizen- 
peak  the  glorious  tricolor  of  sister  France. 


32  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

I  love  the  French ! — I  love  them,  not  because  of  their 
great  name  in  history,  nor  of  the  noble  monuments  of  art 
and  science  which  they  have  scattered  along  the  annals  of 
their  whole  national  existence,  nor  wholly  because  of  their 
unquenchable  love  of  liberty  and  their  dashing  spirit  of 
adventure,  but  for  their  genial,  generous  soul ;  because  they 
have  an  eye  for  everything  that  is  bright  and  beautiful ; 
because  they  are  the  apostles  of  cheerfulness,  and  in  what- 
ever circumstances  we  meet  them  contribute  so  much  to 
make  the  weary  days  of  our  life  seem  gay  and  lightsome. 
If  a  man  would  find  the  most  direct  road  to  my  heart, 
let  him  come  in  the  name  of  Lafayette. 

Landing  at  such  a  time  was,  of  course,  not  to  be  thought 
of  by  any  sane  mind  ;  and  yet,  if  my  eyes  did  not  deceive  me, 
preparations  for  that  purpose  were  going  on.  Yes,  there  is 
a  boat  on  the  lee  side,  with  two  oarsmen  already  in ;  and 
there  is  a  third  descending  by  the  man-ropes.  A  desperate 
set  of  fellows,  certainly  1 — they  must  be  short  of  provisions, 
and  are  going  alongside  of  one  of  the  steamers  for  a  supply. 
But  no — they  head  for  the  shore  !  Can  it  be  possible  ?  It 
is  but  a  frail  skiff — the  captain's  gig,  probably,  and  we  can 
only  catch  a  glimpse  of  lier  now  and  then,  as  she  rises  like 
an  egg-shell  on  the  very  crest  of  a  towering  sea.  She 
comes  on  gallantly,  guided  by  no  tyro.  And  yet,  what 
folly  to  have  made  the  venture !  for  they  must  certainly 
lose  their  boat,  and,  unless  expert  swimmers,  will  all  go  to 
the  bottom  together.  Bravo  1  she  comes  on  well ;  that 
fellow  is  a  worthy  countryman  of  those  who  never  flinched 
while  "  following  the  imperial  eagle  over  the  Alps."  She  is 
heading  directly  for  the  fort.  She  will  soon  be  among  the 
breakers ! 

"  Men  there  I"  said  a  small,  spare,  pale-faced  fellow, 
coming  out  of   the  hotel,  "who'll  go  with  me  in  a  surf- 


A  LIFE  SAVED  33 

boat,  for  a  rescue  ot'  those  crazy-headed  fellows .'  Talk 
fast  !" 

But  not  a  man  stirred. 

"  A  free  grog  bill  at  my  hotel  (for  this  young  man  was 
landlord  of  the  "  Empire  City  ")  ;  lodgings  while  you  stay, 
and  anything  else  you  may  want  into  the  bargain  :  only 
come  on  !  " 

"  Take  back  that  otler,"  said  Tom,  springing  to  his  feet, 
"  and  I'm  with  you  for  one  !  " 

A  dozen  others  immediately  presented  themselves.  The 
landlord  picked  out  a  tall,  sandy-haired  man  ;  and  saying 
two  were  enough,  hurried  down  to  the  boat.  To  my 
surprise,  this  second  man  was  Vale. 

/"  There  goes  the  venturesome  old  fool,"  said  a  voice  at 
my  elbow,  which  I  need  not  inform  the  reader  belonged  to 
the  ex-junior  partner. 

Recognising  me,  he  tapped  my  shoulder  cautiously,  and 
whispered  in  my  ear,  "  But  we  must  make  allowances  for 
Signor  Quanto  ;  for  do  you  know,  that  in  reality  he's  crazy 
as  a  coot  ?  " 

"  Why  do  you  call  him  Quanto  ?  "  said  I.  "That  is  not 
his  name." 

"  No,"  replied  Parkins,  "  his  name  is  Sampson  Vale  ;  but 
the  conceited  old  scoundrel  bought  a  book  in  New  York  enti- 
tled '  Spanish  in  .Six  Lessons  ;'  and  having  studied  that  day 
and  night  on  the  passage,  of  course  considers  himself 
a  proficient  in  the  language.  You  can  hear  him  any  hour 
of  the  day  dickering  with  the  natives  on  the  beach,  always 
beginning  his  remarks  with  '  Quanto  Valet.'  That  is  why 
we  have  nicknamed  him  thus  ;  not  so  bad  either,  considering 
that  valley  is  a  kind  of  short  for  Vale." 

But  the  boats.  The  Frenchman's  is  already  on  the  edge 
of  the  bar,  and  the  helmsman  sits  in  the  stern-sheets  as  coollv 

2* 


34  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

as  Napoleon  in  tlie  saddle  at  Marengo.  And  our  gallant 
young  landlord  is  likewise  nearing  the  other  edge;  he  is 
standing,  and  steers  with  an  oar.  They  are  approaching  each 
other  like  knights  at  a  tournament;  but  the  white,  roaring, 
seething  gulf  is  between  them. 

Heaven  help  us  !  the  Frenchman  is  in.  Ha  !  a  rudder  is  a 
feeble  thing  in  such  a  caldron ;  she  twists  and  twines  like  a 
serpent.  But  see,  something  has  broken  ;  she  is  off  in  the 
trough  !  angels  of  mercy,  she  is  over;  they  are  lost! 

Not  quite,  for  they  are  not  in  deep  water,  and  the  oarsmen 
are  already  clinging  to  the  rocks  under  Fort  Lorenzo.  The 
helmsman,  where  is  he  ?  All  right.  He  is  on  his  legs,  Avith 
the  sea  showei'ing  him  like  a  cataract.  But  he  is  a  fellow 
of  nerve,  and  will  weather  it.  There  he  goes  over,  under. 
O  God,  he  is  lost! 

Stay,  there  is  the  surf-boat  within  her  length  of  him ;  she 
is  climbing  the  same  breaker  that  knocked  him  under ;  she 
is  bolt  upright  on  its  perpendicular  side.  See,  she  rises  to  it, 
and  floats  again  with  her  bows  deep  in  the  brine.  There  is 
no  Frenchman  to  be  seen  ;  he  must  have  carried  something 
heavy  about  his  person,  for  he  has  gone  down.  Hurrah  ! 
there  he  is;  haul  him  in,  boys!  Nine  cheers  for  Quanto 
Valley !     Give  it  to  him,  boys,  and  raise  the  dead  ! 

Yes,  at  the  young  helmsman's  command,  Sampson  Vale 
had  hitched  his  oar,  and  his  old  sledge-hammer  arm  never 
did  better  or  prompter  service.  In  an  eye's  twinkle,  as  it 
were,  the  Frenchman  was  safely  deposited  in  the  bows,  and 
Sampson  hard  at  it  again  on  the  long  and  strong  stroke. 
They  pulled  out  into  the  comparatively  smooth  water,  where 
our  young  hero  of  a  helmsman  sliifted  his  oar  end  for  end, 
and  by  a  use  of  the  same  dexterity  which  he  had  already 
shown,  recrossed  the  bar  in  safety,  and  with  gentle  strokes 
the  boat  came  slowly  up  to  the  point. 


.4   LIFE  SAVED.  '  35 

I  thiuk  it  is  the  author  of  the  '"  Bachelor  of  the  Albany" 
who  says,  "  the  delicate  spirits  of  earth  are  the  bravest." 
The  landlord  of  the  Empire  City  Hotel  was  a  young  man 
of  a  frail  and  almost  etiemiiiate  form,  an  Italian  by  birth,  but 
educated  in  America.  He  had  the  elegant  classic  profile  and 
curling  h^ir  peculiar  to  his  countrymen,  and  would  have 
been  called  rather  pretty  than  handsome.  But  he  had  the 
bearing  of  a  prince,  and  the  fire  of  a  thousand  furnaces  in  his 
coal-black  eye.     His  name  was  Angelo  Vitti. 

When  the  Frenchman  came  to  land,  we  saw  at  once  that 
he  was  a  man  of  a  distinguished  presence  and  resolute  cha- 
racter. ,'  He  seemed  a  little  chagrined  at  having  been  the  hero 
of  such  an  awkward  affair,  or  rather  at  having  been  the  awk- 
ward hero  of  so  gallant  an  aft'air,  for  his  whole  deportment 
exhibited  a  profound  sense  of  acknowledgment  to  Vitti  and 
his  companions.  As  he  turned  to  look  after  his  brave  oars- 
men, who  were  now  scrambling  along  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  river  beneath  the  beetling  crags  of  the  fort,  we  saw  that 
he  had  received  in  his  fall  a  severe  blow  upon  his  head.  (The 
blood  was  flowing  profusely  therefrom,  and  it  was  probably 
in  consequence  of  this  that  he  staggered,  and  but  for  the 
timely  aid  of  Tom  and  Quanto  Valley  would  have  fallen  to 
the  ground.  At  the  direction  of  Vitti  he  was  taken  to  the 
hotel. 

A  Chagres  hotel  makes  but  a  sorry  hospital.  Vitti,  how- 
ever, had  in  his  establishment  rooms  of  his  own,  where  it  was 
said  more  elegance  and  comfort  were  to  be  found  than  in  any 
other  place  in  Chagres.  It  was  also  whispered  that  this  suite 
of  apartments  was  presided  over  by  a  sister  of  Vitti's,  a 
beautiful  girl,  who  was  to  hiin  a  kind  of  ministering  angel, 
and  kept  in  check,  by  her  presence,  the  native  desperateness 
of  his  character.  For  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  this  young 
adventurer  was  a  gambler,  and,  like  many  of  his  couutiymen, 


36  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"suddeu  and  quick  in  qiianel."  Here  was  a  nice  bit  of 
romance  for  you. 

To  one  of  these  rooms  the  Frenchman  was  immediately 
taken,  and  I  being  at  hand  was  the  fortunate  individual  who 
Avas  dispatched  for  a  surgeon.     As  good  luck  would  have  it, 

my  staunch  friend  Doctor  G was  at  that  moment  on  the 

piazza,  and  we  accordingly  went  up  together. 

The  room  into  which  we  were  ushered,  was  an  apartmen* 
redolent  of  elegance  and  good  taste.  I  may  not  be  able  to 
describe  its  minute  features,  but  its  tirst  appearance  commu- 
nicated to  my  frame  an  electric  thrill  of  pleasure.  It  was  as  if  I 
had  shut  my  eyes,  and  there  had  come  suddenly  to  my  inner 
sense  a  sweet  vision  of  home.  We  stepped  from  the  rough 
boards  of  the  entry,  upon  a  soft  and  yielding  tapestry  carpet; 
the  richly  carved  chairs,  sofas,  lounges,  and  pier  tables,  all 
of  the  choicest  designs,  the  costly  mirrors,  the  choice  paint- 
ings, the  vases,  statuary,  and  flowers,  the  whole  arranged 
with  such  an  exquisite  eye  to  pleasing  effect,  overcame  us 
like  a  dream  ;  for  it  seemed  to  our  hungry  and  unaccustomed 
senses,  as  if  there  was  an  odor  from  the  spirit  of  beauty,  Hke 
that  which  diffuses  itself  from  "  spices,  and  balm,  and  myrrh," 
filling  the  apartment  and  overhanging  it  "  like  a  summer 
cloud."  Of  a  verity,  the  most  delicious  intoxication  cometh 
not  from  the  wine  cup.  There  is  a  subtle  essence  of  which  men 
have  sometimes  quaffed  too  freely,  which  fires  the  brain,  and 
sends  them  mad,  and  staggering  about  the  earth.  But  I  am 
too  fast — 

When  we  entered,  the  Frenchman  Avas  reclining  on  a 
sofa,  and  Tom  stood  by  his  side  washing  the  wound,  while 

Sampson  Vale  held  the  water  basin.    Doctor  G examined 

the  part  affected,  and  pronounced  the  blow  to  be  by  no 
means  a  serious  one,  arid  that  with  quiet  and  suitable 
attention  the  unfortunate  man  would  soon  recover. 


A  LIFE  SAVED.  37 

"  "Where  is  Vitti  i"  said  I  to  Tom,  "  did  lie  not  come  up 
with  you  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Tom,  "  and  he  has  gone  to  his  sister's  cham- 
ber, to  consult  about  what  is  to  be  done  with  this  wounded 
knight." 

There  were  two  rooms  leading  from  that  in  which  we 
were,  one  the  chamber  of  Vitti,  and  the  other  occupied 
by  his  sister.  From  the  latter,  Vitti  came  forth  as  we  Avere 
speaking,  leading  by  the  hand  a  young  and  beautiful  girl,  in 
whom  it  was  easy  to  see  the  outward  signs  of  a  near 
relationship. 

"  My  sister,"  said  he  proudly,  presenting  her  to  us. 

I  shall  not  attempt  to  give  to  the  reader  a  description  of 
the  person  of  this  gentle  girl.  Her  image  is  so  asso- 
ciated in  my  mind  with  the  highest,  holiest  idea  of  a  sister's 
love  and  devotion,  that  I  fear  lest  I  should  mar  its  delicate 
lineaments  by  venturing  on  their  delineation.  A  tender  exotic 
from  fair  Italy,  her  outward  frame  was  a  true  type  of  the 
exquisite  beauty  of  her  character. 

"  Lotta,"  said  Vitti,  looking  towards  the  suft'erer,  "  here 
is  an  invalid  for  you  to  nurse  ;  take  good  care  of  him,  and  I 
think  he  may  survive  the  cflects  of  his  recklessness," 

"  AVith  much  pleasure,"  answered  Lotta,  in  the  tenderest 
of  tones,  "  if  you  desire  it,  dear  xlngelo." 

She  looked  into  her  brother's  eyes  as  she  spoke,  a  look  as 
calm,  and  pure,  and  peaceful,  as  that  which  the  quiet  stars  shed 
down  from  heaven,  and  she  saw  not  the  glance  of  unfeigned 
wonder  and  admiration  wliich  the  sick  man  cast  towards 
her.  There  was  nothing  wrong  about  the  look ;  it  was  the 
spontaneous  tribute  of  a  susceptible  heart  to  woman's  loveli- 
ness; and  had  she  seen  it,  it  would  not  have  called  the  faint- 
est blush  of  maidenly  shame  to  her  cheek,  and  yet  I  did  not 
like  it. 


65037 


38  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

It  was  a  presentiment  hard  to  define.  The  countenance 
of  the  Frenchman  was  such  a  specimen  of  manly  beauty  ;  there 
was  something  in  his  clear  broad  forehead  and  large  soul-lit 
eyes,  so  proud  and  trustworthy ;  there  was  not  the  vestige  of 
anything  mean,  base,  or  sensual  in  his  whole  deportment, 
but  something  noble  and  generous,  that  spoke  of  the  great, 
because  good  qualities  inherent  in  the  heart.  If  there  is  any 
truth  written  in  human  physiognomy,  he  was  a  man  to  be 
trusted,  aye,  even  with  the  infinite  wealth  of  a  virgin's  heart" 
But  if  he  was  not,  then  God  help  the  world,  for  there  is  no 
outward  mark  upon  his  creatures  by  which  we  may  know 
them — the  good  from  the  bad. 

And  yet  I  did  not  like  this  sudden  recognition,  on  his 
part,  of  the  girl's  grace  and  beauty,  for  it  seemed  to  me  as 
if  she  were  spiritualized  by  the  position  she  had  chosen  for 
herself  in  life — a  thing  apart  from  earth-)— and  I  could  not 
contemplate  this  possible  connexion  with  it,  even  in  the 
highest,  purest  form,  without  an  accompanying  presentiment 
of  evil.  I  cannot  define  this  impression,  but  1  felt  it  not  the 
less  strongly  because  so  vaguely. 

/ft  seemed  that  Vitti  had  experienced  a  corresponding  sen- 
timent. 

"  Lotta,"  said  he  playfully,  as  we  were  all  leaving  to  go 
down  stairs  together,  "  take  good  care  of  yourself,  darling,  as 
well  as  of  your  patient." 

""She  answered  with  the  same  heart-touching  tenderness  as 
before. 

"  Our  dear  father  and  mother  are  in  heaven,  Angelo.  You 
know  how  they  loved  us  while  on  earth.  Did  we  cease  to 
love  them,  or  become  in  any  way  unworthy  of  their  con- 
tinued aftection,  would  it  not,  think  you,  mar  their  eternal 
happiness  ?" 

Beautiful  Carlotta  Vitti !    thy   parents  were   indeed  iu 


A  LIFE  SAVED.  39 

heaven ;  and  thou,  in  thy  loveliness  and  purity,  wert  not 
far  from  them. 

We  descended  the  stairs  in  a  kind  of  stupor,  like  persons 
who  had  seen  a  vision.  I  was  brought  to  my  every-day 
senses  by  a  piercing  scream  from  Quanto  Valley.  The  snake 
proprietor  had  met  us  on  the  piazza,  and  laid  his  hand  fami- 
liarly upon  Quanto's  shoulder. 

"  Nay,  don't  yell  in  that  manner,"  said  he  ;  "  although  by 
the  insertion  of  my  finger  nails  into  your  liesh,  I  could  poi- 
son you  as  easily  as  a  serjient.  But  be  easy  on  that  score. 
You  are  a  brave  fellow  in  your  way,  and  to-day  have  done 
me  a  good  service.  Do  you  understand,"  continued  he,  as 
Vale  looked  a  little  bewildered,  "  in  the  rescue  of  the  French 
Marquis  de  G you  have  done  me  good  service  ?" 

I  shall  never  forget  the  desperately  wicked  expression  of 
the  fellow's  face  as  he  said  this — Heaven  and  Hell !  Hell 
and  Heaven  !  And  can  it  be  that  there  is  so  little  earthly 
space  between  the  two  ? 


40  LIFE  0:>'  THE  ISTHMUS. 


CHAPTER   IV 


MONSIEUR    CltAl'OLKT. 


•»  AH,  but  we  went  merrily"  in  our  eiicampiiieut  by  the 
v/  sea.  The  few  days  that  we  spent  at  Chagres  were  by 
no  means  tedious.  Our  mode  of  life  was  as  uncivilized  and 
gipsyish,  as  the  most  ardent  lover  of  the  picturesque  could 
desire.  We  certainly  had  enough  to  make  us  uncomfortable, 
shifts  enough  to  make  to  get  along  any  way,  and  we  there- 
fore enjoyed  ourselves  extremely. 

The  first  night  of  our  stay  in  camp  had  been  a  rainy  one, 
and  we  immediately  found  out  that  our  Arab  tents  were  not 
the  requisite  style  of  dormitories  for  that  country.  We  had, 
accordingly,  the  next  day  purchased  in  town  some  panel 
houses,  and  tarred  canvas  for  covering  them.  By  this 
arrangement  we  had  plenty  of  lodging-room.  Our  cooking 
was  done  in  the  rear,  the  stove  being  set  up  beneath  a  roof 
of  tarred  canvas  supported  on  sticks.  We  eat  out  of  doors, 
in  pleasant  weather,  squatting  upon  tlie  grass  in  Arab 
fashion,  and  during  the  showers,  anywhere  that  promised 
shelter. 

It  didn't,  however,  matter  so  much  where  we  slept,  as  that 
we  slept  at  all ;  or  in  what  place  we  eat,  provided  we  had 
any  thing  to  eat,  and  cooked  in  such  a  manner  as  to  render 
it  palatable.  As  for  sleeping,  we  had  to  do  it  whenever  we 
could.  There  was  no  particular  time  set  apart  and  conse- 
ciatod  to  it — I  mean  rimong  the  multitude  then  at  Chagres. 


MONSIEUR  CRAPOLET.  41 

Their  ideas  on  this  subject  wei-e  very  loose.  People  who 
had  broken  away  from  the  conventionalities  of  life  in  other 
respects,  were  not  expected  to  conform  to  this  very  negative 
one  of  obser\nng  a  particular  hour  for  retiring  to  rest ;  and 
the  result  was,  that  we  were  often  favored  with  company  at 
a  time  when  we  were  quite  unprepared  for  their  reception. 
Parties  inquest  of  better  accommodation  than  they  had  been 
able  to  find  in  Chagres  proper,  deluded  by  our  lights  in  the 
distance,  came  thither,  and  were  unwilling  to  be  persuaded 
that  we  did  not  keep  a  hotel  or  house  of  entertainment. 
Marauding  parties,  who  had  found  night  hideous  at  the 
"  Irving  "  and  "  Empire  City,"  were  instinctively  felt  at  times 
to  be  creeping  amongst  the  brushwood,  or  plunging  into  the 
river  on  our  left,  and  occasionally  made  us  certain  of  their 
actual  neighborhood  by  firing  otF  guns  and  pistols  at  inof- 
fensive objects  of  natural  history.  The  worst  of  all  these 
unpleasant  little  coteries,  were,  I  think,  those  who  were 
addicted  to  serenading.  Oh,  the  hours  that  I  have  lain,  half 
asleep  and  half  awake,  wondering  who  it  was  that  persisted 
so  pertinaciously  in  his  request  to  be  carried  "  back  to  old  Yir- 
ginny  ;"  and  where  was  that  poor  girl  Susannah,  who  was  so 
plaintively  coaxed  to  abstain  from  crying  ;  and  that  cruel  but 
"  lovely  Fan,"  why  didn't  she  "  come  out  to-night,"  and  still 
these  complaining  longings  ?  Yet  to  say  that  we  did  not 
rather  like  this  state  of  things,  would  be  hardly  true.  It 
was  such  an  excellent  representation  of  the  pursuit  of  con- 
viviality under  difficulties,  that  not  to  have  appreciated  it 
would  have  shown  a  barrenness  of  spirit,  to  which  I,  for  one, 
do  not  feel  willing  to  plead  guilty. 

In  the  alimentary  department,  things  were  very  unsettled. 
It  was  difficult,  in  the  first  place,  to  get  anything  to  eat ; 
such  a  hungry  set  as  were  these  gold-seekers  while 
in  transitu^  I  believe  the  world   never  saw  before  or  since. 


42  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

They  were,  it  is  true,  charged  a  high  price  for  their  meals, 
but  then  it  was  on  this  very  account  tlie  more  foolish  in 
them  to  attempt  to  act  up  to  the  Yankee  doctrine  of  gettino- 
their  money's  worth,  inasmuch  as  what  they  did  eat  oi-dina- 
rily,  was,  in  one  particular,  like  land  in  the  state  of  New 
Hampshire,  worth  the  most  the  least  there  was  of  it.  But 
such  as  it  was  even,  it  was  hard  to  get.  It  is  true,  there 
was  a  bullock  daily  slaughtered  by  a  misei'able  specimen  of 
human  nature  from  Carthagena,  wlio  used  to  sell  him,  hide, 
horn,  and  hoof,  and,  it  was  whispered,  an  old  boot  or  two 
into  the  bargain  ;  but  as  I  had  observed  that  none  of  the 
Chagres  residents  ever  partook  of  this  luxury,  we  acted 
upon  the  hint,  and  likewise  denied  ourselves  the  same.  But 
it  is  idle  to  tell  what  we  didn't  have ;  and  it  was  certainly 
curious  to  see  what  Ave  did  have,  and  how  we  went  to  work 
to  get  it. 

Thei-e  was  now  and  then  an  arrival  from  Jamaica  or 
Carthagena,  with  turtle,  chickens,  sheep,  yams,  plantains, 
and  the  like.  When  this  supply  fell  short,  we  made  diplo- 
matic visits  from  kitchen  to  kitchen  of  the  various  hotels ; 
and  if  perchance  a  less  ravenous  spirit  than  usual  had  that 
day  prevailed  at  table,  we  assisted  to  keep  from  spoiling  the 
fragments  which  remained.  At  other  times,  we  went  on 
board  vessels  lying  alongside  of  the  levee,  and  sometimes 
succeeded  in  getting  a  junk  of  "old  horse;"  and,  on  one 
occasion — a  fjict,  reader — a  pot  of  baked  beans  !  Theso 
things,  imited  with  what  the  Major  brought  in  from  the 
woods,  and  Avhat  Ave  received  as  tribute  from  bivouacs  in 
our  neighborhood,  kept  us  after  a  fashion. 

Our  hours  for  eating  were,  Avhenever  Ave  had  anything 
prepared  to  eat.  And  here  was  a  neAv  source  of  annoyance, 
the  preparing  of  our  food.  AVe  had  no  cook,  although  our 
library  boasted  of  a  cook-book.     Often  a  dish  whose  appear- 


MONSIEUR  CRAPOLET.  43 

ance  we  had  anxiously  awaited,  would  present  itself  in  such 
a  questionable  shape,  that  we  dared  not  touch  it.  It  had 
beeiT  prepared  "  according  to  the  book  ;"  only  in  cases  where 
Ave  did  not  have  the  ingredients  required  by  the  said  book, 
we  had  sometimes  substituted  such  as  we  did  have,  which 
altered  materially  the  whole  flavor  and  relish  of  the  thing. 
But  an  acquisition  was  in  store  for  us,  wliich  was  to  put 
things  in  this  department  on  an  entirely  new  footing. 

I  think  it  was  some  two  days  after  the  arrival  of  the 
French  ship,  that  Tom  and  I  were  loafing  despairingly  about 
home,  after  an  unsuccessful  sally  into  the  town  for  food.  It 
was  two  o'clock ;  and  we  had  that  morning  breakfasted  at 
nine.  The  Major  was  in  the  woods,  naturalizing.  Our 
Moors  were  preparing  a  huge  pot-full  of  their  everlasting 
kes-coo-soo,  a  dish  which  they  were  never  tired  of. 

"  Tom,",  said  I  in  a  feeble  tone,  "  our  sole  resource  now  is 
in  the  Major." 

"  Yes,"  replied  Tom  ;  "  and  a  possible  dinner  oft'  hum- 
ming-birds is  a  very  unsatisfactory  prospect  to  look  forward 
to." 

"To  think,  Tom,  that  we  have  nothing  in  camp  but  the 
remains  of  a  barrel  of  biscuit,  two  junks  of  salt  pork,  one 
ham,  a  few  eggs,  a  little  salt  and  sugar." 

"Except  the  liquor,"  said  Tom,  mournfully. 

"  And  four  o'clock  is  coming,  Tom." 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  musing  ;  "  and  five — " 

"  Aye,  and  six,  Tom." 

A  shout  from  the  returning  Major  interrupted  this  spirited 
dialogue.  He  hove  in  sight  through  the  bushes  in  the  rear 
ground,  and  was  accompanied  by  a  portly  stranger  ;  the  two 
being  followed  at  a  short  distance  by  a  very  old  negro.  As 
they  approached,  we  were  pleased  to  see  that  the  Major  bore 
a  string  of  birds  ;  and  that  his  companion,  besides  his  fowling- 


44  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

piece  and  ammunition,  carried  a  large  basket,  wliicli,  from  the 
manner  in  ■which  it  affected  his  gait,  evidently  contained 
something  heavy.  The  old  negro  had  also  a  struggling  ani- 
mal, which  looked  amazingly  like  a  monkey,  slung  across 
liis  back,  and  a  large  pagara,  or  wicker  basket,  poised  upon 
his  head. 

"  Monsieur  Crapolet,"  said  the  Major,  presenting  his  com- 
panion. 

"  Messieurs,  j'ai  bien  Thonneur,"  said  Monsieur  Crapolet, 
bowing  with  the  easy  off-hand  courtesy  of  a  Frenchman. 

Yes,  this  was  Monsieur  Crapolet — a  gentleman,  it  is  true, 
of  whom  I  had  never  heard  before,  but  a  man  most  worthy 
to  be  heard  of,  notwithstanding.  In  physique  he  was  a  large 
man,  above  the  common  height,  and  very  portly.  He  had  a 
broad  full  face,  and  a  head  bald  upon  the  top,  which  shone 
when  he  removed  his  hat  in  saluting  us,  as  if  it  had  been 
varnished.  His  beard  was  closely  shaven  and  well  sprinkled 
with  grey  stumps,  as  was  also  the  short  crispy  hair  upon  the 
sides  and  back  of  his  head.  He  had  the  merry  twinkle  of  a 
hon  vivant  in  Ids  small  blue  eyes ;  and  a  vohi])tuous  style 
of  mouth,  about  which  lingered  palpably  some  of  the  savory 
essence  distilled  from  the  many  good  things  which  had  tra- 
velled that  "  red  pathway."  This  very  pleasant  specimen  of 
humanity  was  attired  in  a  coarse  blue  hunting-shirt,  hanging 
loose  over  a  pair  of  white  cotton  trowsers,  stout  shoes  of  raw 
liide,  and  a  broad-brimmed,  dull-colored  chapeau  de  fantasie. 

The  Major,  who  had  already  made  this  gentleman  out  to 
be  a  character,  informed  us  that  he  had  invited  him  to 
make  "one  of  us."  Men  are  always  gayest  when  on  their 
last  legs.  With  starvation  awaiting  us  at  the  next  corner, 
we  nevertheless  welcomed  this  additional  })alate  to  our  midst, 
and  Tom  proposed  to  celebrate  the  occasion  by  a  drink. 

"  Khali  it  be  I'eau-de-vie  ?"  inquired  he  of  our  new  friend. 


MOiySIEUR  CRAPOLET.  45 

The  Frenclunan  upon  this  challenge  laid  down  his  arms, 
and  divesting  himself  of  chapeau,  powder-flask,  and  shot- 
pouch,  observed  that  he  should  interpose  no  objection  to  our 
taking  a  small  sip  all  round  of  that  excellent  "  eau  que 
prolonge  la  vie,  et  que  nous  rends  gai  et  joyeuse." 

I  need  not  say  that  this  introductory  sentiment  of  his 
completely  won  our  hearts,  and  made  us  the  more  regret  the 
lack  of  means  for  carrying  out  a  hospitality  which  was  so 
well  received.  I  ventured  to  observe  thus  much  to  Monsieur 
Crapolet,  who  quite  perfected  his  conquest  over  us  by  reply- 
ing— 

"  Soyez  tranquille.  I  will  take  charge  of  the  culinary 
department  myself ;  I  have  a  boy  with  me  who  is  au  fait  in 
such  matters — Thom,  venez  ici." 

The  old  negro  deposited  his  pagara  and  monkey  near  the 
"  cook-house,"  and  came  tottering  up  to  where  we  sat.  He 
was  a  toothless,  grizzly,  decrepit  subject.  He  was  a  "  boy" 
doubtless,  in  the  sense  that  he  was  far  advanced  in  second 
childhood.  I  am  not  aware  of  any  way  of  ascertaining  with 
exactitude  a  negro's  age,  but  I  think  that  this  boy  must 
have  been  somewhere  in  the  second  century  of  his  existence. 
So  long,  indeed,  had  his  soul  and  body  been  together,  that 
the  one  seemed  to  have  lost  entirely  its  influence  with  the 
other,  for  this  boy  had  a  habit  of  constantly  spitting  when 
lie  talked,  and  he  always  thought  aloud,  and  of  scratching 
his  head  at  frequent  intervals — little  physical  peculiarities 
which  I  am  very  sure  a  professional  cook  would  not  indulge 
in,  if  lie  was  supposed  to  have  any  control  over  his  bodily 
functions.  In  that  very  remote  period  when  Thom  had  been 
younger  than  he  now  was,  he  had  probably  been  somewhat 
of  a  hard  customer,  if  one  might  draw  any  inference  at  all 
from  sundry  deep  cuts  across  his  cheek  and  shoulders,  and 
the  fact  that  both  of  his  ears  were  considerably  cropped ; 


46  LIFE  O.V  THE  ISTIIMl  S. 

even  now,  as  lie  stood  before  us,  lie  tairly  crouched  as  if  in 
expectation  of  the  well  remembered  lash.  His  costume  is 
easily  described.  It  consisted  of  m  pair  of  coarse  blue  cotton 
trowsers. 

"  This  boy,"  said  ^Monsieur  Crapolet,  giving  the  youth  a 
gentle  chuck  under  the  chin,  which  sent  his  di'ooping  lower 
jaw  with  prodigious  force  against  the  upper,  and  brought 
his  face  into  a  horizontal  position  ;  "  this  boy,  whom  I  call 
Thorn,  an  abbreviation  of  the  English  name  Thomas,  under- 
stands well  his  affair.     N''cst-ce  'pas^  Thorn?" 

"  Oui,  monsieur,^''  said  Thom.  He  was  not  so  much  a 
promising  boy  as  an  assenting  one. 

"^/i  bien,  Thom,  we  will  to-day  have  for  dinner" — and 
our  new  superintendent  of  the  culinary  department  went  on 
with  a  string  of  dishes,  specified  in  the  Creole  dialect,  which 
betokened  something  bountiful,  if  not  nice.  At  the  enume- 
ration of  each  article,  Thom  inserted  his  assenting  "  Oui, 
monsieur.^''  For  so  negative  a  character,  he  certainly  made 
a  great  use  of  the  affirmative  in  conversation. 

Monsieur  Crapolet  then  stated  that  he  had  only  one  con- 
dition to  make  with  us  before  entering  upon  the  practical 
duties  of  his  situation,  and  that  was  that  he  should  be  the 
supreme  head  of  his  department,  and  that  no  one  else  should 
interfere  even  to  the  extent  of  visiting  the  cook-house  while 
in  operation.  As  it  has  always  been  an  article  of  my  creed 
not  to  inquire  too  closely  into  the  causes  of  any  good  prac- 
tical result,  this  arrangement  was  quite  acceptable,  so  far  as  I 
was  concerned  at  any  rate,  and  the  chief  and  his  subordinate 
immediately  set  about  their  preparatory  labors.  An  addi- 
tional piece  of  canvas  was  stretched  perpendicularly  across 
the  front  of  the  cook-house,  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
the  other  buildings  of  our  encampment.  Behind  this  were 
taken  the  pagara,  basket,  and  monkey.    What  was  next  done 


MOySIEUR  CRAPOLET.  41 

I  cannot  sa}-.  The  black  curtain  of  tarred  canvas  hung 
heavy  and  impenetrable  between  us  and  the  theatre  of  ope- 
rations, and  the  mysteries  of  that  place  are  yet  unrevealed. 

When  dinner  was  fairly  under  weigh,  as  we  judged  from 
the  savory  odors  which  occasionally  drifted  outward  to  our 
domiciles,  Monsieur  Crapolet  came  forth,  witli  his  large,  full 
face  all  aglow  with  pleasurable  emotions. 

"  Ca  va !  9a  va  !"  said  he,  rubbing  his  hands  together,  "  we 
shall  eat  something  good  to-day — Thom  est  un  garqon 
d'esprit." 

'•  How  does  it  happen,"  said  I,  beckoning  him  to  a  seat 
beside  me,  "  that  a  gentleman  of  your  talents  and  Parisian 
tastes  is  adrift  in  such  a  dreary  land  as  this  ?" 

"Ah,"  replied  Monsieur  Crajjolet,  "you  have  touched 
upon  a  delicate  theme,  in  consequence  of  which  we  will  take 
another  coup  de  petit  lait,  for,  voyez-vous,  I  have  a  little 
weakness  on  this  subject." 

"  And  so  you  are  not  a  gold-seeker,"  said  I,  after  we  had 
each  taken  a  refreshing  sip  of  "  petit  lait." 

"  In  me,"  said  he,  striving  hard  to  suppress  the  rosy 
twinkle  of  his  eye,  and  speaking  in  a  melancholy  voice,  which 
came  strangely  out  of  such  a  bonhomie  mouth,  "  you  be- 
hold an  unfortunate  individual,  who  has  left  a  land  where 
they  have  interred  all  whom  he  once  loved." 

"  Indeed,"  said  I,  trying  to  raise  a  tender  tone,  for  in  a 
robust  gentleman  of  fifty  this  allusion  was  not  so  pathetic  as 
I  could  have  desired, — "  an  affair  of  the  heart  ?" 

"  Au  juste  !"  said  he,  laying  both  hands  upon  his  bowels 
in  a  manner  expressive  of  great  pain,  and  which  led  me  to 
think  at  first  that  our  "  petit  lait"  was  not  the  right  medicine 
in  his  case.  "  I  am  here  because  solitude,  hardships,  and 
self-denial — another  petit  coup  of  this  excellent  '  lait,''  if  you 
please — are,  as  I  was  about  to  say,  the  true  remedy  for  a 


48  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

lacerated  heart.  You  see,  in  my  younger  days  I  was  a  sus- 
ceptible boy.  Mon  dieu,  how  my  heart  used  to  beat  when 
a  bright  eye  showered  its  radiance  upon  me !  Sir,  if  you 
will  believe  me,  a  swan-like  neck,  or  an  elegantly  chiselled 
foot,  made  my  knees  shake  under  me.  Eh  bien !  in  our 
village,  for  I  was  born  in  a  small  village  near  Paris,  there 
were  two  demoiselles,  between  whom  my  heart  was  equally 
divided,  Virginie  and  Mathilde — un  petit  coup  de  lait  a  leur 
sante." 

])ear,  delightful  Monsieur  Crapolet,  he  is  getting  deep  into 
pathos,  but  if  he  is  not  careful  the  constitutional  bonhomie 
of  his  nature  will  run  away  with  him. 

"  You  see,"  continued  he,  after  fortifying  himself  witli  a 
copious  draught,  "  that  this  was  a  harassing  state  of  things. 
So  terrible  did  this  condition  of  uncertainty  as  to  the  prepon- 
derating state  of  my  aft'ections  become,  that  I  was  forced  to 
fly  my  country.  In  a  far  land,  said  I,  my  heart  will  become 
tranquil,  and  be  able  coolly  to  choose  its  future  life-long  com- 
panion. Y"ou  may  believe  me,  Sir,  when  I  tell  you,  that  I 
had  resided  seventeen  years  in  Cayenne,  French  Guiana, 
before  I  fully  made  up  my  mind  as  to  which  of  the  two  mj'^ 
affections  most  strongly  inclined.  It  proved  to  be  Virginie, 
— another  coup  de  lait,  s'il  vous  plait,  a  la  sante  de  ma  chere 
Virginie." 

"  And  it  was  in  Frencli  Guiana  that  you  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Thom,  our  cook  ?" 

"Sir,  you  are  my  friend.  Thom,  too,  is  an  excellent  boy, 
but  I  beg  of  you  that  you  will  not  mention  him  in  this  con- 
nexion. Eh  bien,  after  an  absence  of  seventeen  years,  I 
returned  to  my  native  land  with  the  intention  of  espousing 
Virginie,  or,  in  the  event  of  anything  having  happened  to 
her,  making  Mathilde  the  happy  companion  of  my  bosom — 
and  what  do  you  think — I  found  them  both " 


MONSIEUR  CRAl'OLET.  49 

"  Uead  r 

"  Dead  !  le  diable — uo,  married !" 

Here  was  a  climax.  I  must  cerlaiuly  Lave  mistranslated 
his  remark  about  iuterriug  tlie  objects  of  Lis  love.  I  Lad  a 
strong  desire  to  laugL,  and  am  sure  that  we  sLould  have 
had  "  an  aflair,"  Lad  not  TLom  at  tliat  moment  announced 
the  dinner. 

It  was  served  upon  a  table  built  in  CLagres  fashion ;  that 
Ls,  upon  rough  pine  boaids  laid  atliwart  of  empty  barrels. 
We  had  soup  to  begin  with,  and  various  other  smoking  and 
palatable-looking  dishes.  We  were  all  of  us  pretty  hungry, 
and  I  believe  enjoyed  the  repast  none  the  less  for  its  mys- 
terious appearance.  It  was  plain  enough  that  Monsieur 
Crapolet  had  purged  his  bosom  of  a  good  deal  of  "  perilous 
stuft"  by  his  confession  to  me,  for  he  now  appeared  as  a 
polite  Frenchman  in  full  feather,  helping  the  ladies  to  a  bit 
of  roast  veal,  some  of  the  canvas-back,  just  a  wing  of  fri- 
caseed  chicken,  and  the  like ;  while  the  rest  of  us  looked  on 
in  amazement,  not  so  much  at  the  variety  of  dishes  which 
were  produced  by  Thom  at  such  short  notice,  as  to  find  that 
liis  master  had  a  name  ready  for  each. 

Xow,  reader,  my  belief  then  was,  and  still  is,  that  our 
dinner  that  day,  roast  veal,  mutton  chop,  baked  duck,  frica- 
seed  chicken,  stewed  brains,  petites  pates,  and  Avhatever  else 
we  might  have  had,  all  owed  its  origin  to  that  wounded 
monkey  which  I  liavf  already  alluded  to  as  Laving  been 
smuggled  by  Tom  beLind  the  ra!i\as  curtain.  And  my 
reasons  are,  tLat,  in  tLe  firnl  place,  Le  never  appeared  again 
in  life.  In  tLe  second  place,  a  monkey's  skin  and  entrails 
were  found  tLe  next  day  at  a  sLort  distance  from  camp, 
directly  in  rear  of  the  cookery,  by  a  party  of  disinterested 
people,  wLo  brougLt  tLe  same  to  us  for  exLibition.  And  in 
tLe  tLird  place,  visions  of  inonkeys  hx  tLo  various  stages  of 


50  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

frying,  stewing,  and  roasting,  came  that  night  and  capered 
gibberingly  around  my  bed  ;  and  afterwards  I  was  trans- 
ported as  it  were  to  a  lonesome  place  in  the  woods,  where 
was  a  coffin,  and  a  gang  of  monkeys  solemnly  digging  a 
grave  for  its  disposal ;  beneath  the  open  lid  of  which,  too,  I 
shuddered  at  beholding  the  well  remembered  features  of  our 
toothless  cook — and  still  later  in  the  night  I  had  a  third 
vision,  and  another  troop  of  monkeys, — the  posteiity,  doubt- 
less, of  these  former, — were  dancing  by  moonlight  in  that 
self-same  woodland  spot,  sin^ng  mournfully  but  gleefully  a 
■well-known  Ethiopian  melody  ;  and  then  I  remembered  that 
Thom  lay  buried  beneath  that  green  sward,  and  that  he  was 
the  "  Uncle  Ned  "  of  whom  they  sang  as  having  died  in 
that  melancholy  "  long,  long  ago." 

During  the  period  that  Monsieur  Crapolet  catered  for  our 
party,  I  think  we  eat  about  a  monkey  a-piece,  besides  lizards, 
mud  turtles,  salamanders,  water  rats,  and  anaconda  steaks ; 
nevertheless,  we  did  not  complain  of  our  fare.  To  have 
done  so  Avould  have  implied  a  non-fulfilment  of  the  condi- 
tion to  which  we  had  mutually  bound  ourselves.  Mr.  Sam 
Weller  is  recorded  as  having  observed  on  one  occasion  that 
*'  Weal  pie  was  a  good  thing  when  you  knew  that  it  warn't 
made  of  kittens."  On  our  part  we  went  further,  and  de- 
voured with  a  keen  relish  haunches  of  deer,  which  we  were 
morally  certain  was  but  a  kind  of  nom  de  cuisine  for  alli- 
gators' tails. 

I  must  also  say,  in  justice  to  Monsieur  Crapolet  and  his 
subordinate  Tom,  that  other  and  plainer  dishes  were  often 
set  before  us,  and  that  if  we  partook  of  these  doubtful  viands 
it  was  because  we  preferred  them — the  greatest  compliment 
■which  we  coijld  have  paid  to  the  magic  of  their  cookery. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  A  START. 


CHAPTER   V. 

PREPARATIONS    FOR    A    START. 

¥E  had  now  been  in  Chagres  some  ten  days  ;  tlie  camels 
were  sufficiently  refreshed  after  the  fatigues  of  the  voy- 
age, to  warrant  an  immediate  undertaking  of  our  journey 
across  the  Isthmus.  We  had  taken  advice  relating  to  the 
best  way  of  proceeding,  and  had  come  to  the  conclusion  to 
try  the  land  route.  AVe  were  told  that  there  was  a  good 
paved  road,  lying  somewhere  on  the  native  side  of  the  river, 
and  continuing  along  on  the  same  side  till  near  the  neigh- 
borhood of  Cruces,  where  the  stream  was  easily  forded, 
and  beyond  which  it  connected  with  the  old  road  from 
Cruces  to  Panama,  which  many  of  my  readers  have  doubt- 
less travelled.  The  great  difficulty  about  this  road  seemed 
"lO  be,  the  finding  it.  Some  put  it  as  commencing  away  down 
at  Porto  Bello,  some  as  beginning  near  Navy  Bay;  and 
othei"s  were  firm  in  their  statements,  that  it  originally  started 
from  Chagres.  But  all  allowed  that  we  should  hit  it  if  we 
went  back  far  enough  into  the  busli.  If  there  was  any  road 
at  all,  or  any  possibility  of  getting  over  the  ground  in  this 
direction,  we  thought  it  preferable  to  trying  the  river,  as 
the  boating  of  our  camels  as  far  as  Cruces  would  be  a  very 
expensive  and  tedious  affair. 

Accordingly,  one  fine  morning,  after  a  rainy  night  be  it 
understood,  we  shook  down  and  boxed  our  houses,  struck 
our  tents,  pulled  up  stakes,  and  packed  everything,  including 


52  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

tlie  cooking-stove  and  fixtures,  upon  the  camels  (chameaux, 
Monsieur  Crapolet  used  to  call  thera).  We  then  bade  adieu  to 
the  ground  of  our  sojourn,  wending  our  way  towards  the 
town.  I  do  not  remember  that  I  looked  back  upon  the  spot 
at  that  time,  with  any  particular  emotion.  The  remembrance 
of  recent  annoyances  was  then  fresh,  and  I  presume  that  the 
brisk  action  of  our  beasts  rather  led  me  to  look  forward 
with  pleasant  anticijjations,  than  to  an  indulgence  in  senti- 
mental regrets.     But  now,  as  I  write,  it  is  different. 

That  spot  of  earth,  in  its  untamed  beauty  and  luxurious- 
ness,  rises  up  before  me  like  a  picture.  Yes,  I  am  back  again 
by  the  great  seu-side,  with  the  mountain  brook  not  far  away, 
rushing  so  passionately  yet  tenderly  to  its  embrace.  Tliere 
are  the  old  elms,  and  the  long  beach  in  the  foreground,  and 
the  grand  sombre  mountains  in  the  rear.  There  is  the  well 
remembered  path  through  the  brushwood,  leading  back  to 
the  Indian  Village,  and  beyond,  too,  up  a  high  hill,  where  I 
sometimes  went  with  the  Major,  and  from  whence  we  could 
discern  vessels  below  our  horizon  on  the  beach,  bound,  on 
the  one  tack,  it  might  be  to  San  Juan,  or  on  the  other,  to 
Porto  Bello.  Beyond  the  river  rises  a  steep  rocky  bluff,  at 
whose  base  the  waters  were  always  white,  whether  milky  in 
pleasant  play,  or  livid  with  rage.  And  on  the  hither  side 
is  a  shady  nook,  formed  by  willows  growing  out  of  the  sand, 
where  the  washerwomen,  who  came  from  Chagres,  were 
wont  to  deposit  heaps  of  clothing,  rich  with  the  auriferous 
mud  of  the  Yuba  or  Feather  River.  I  see,  too,  the  deck 
timber — fragment  of  a  former  wreck,  which  had  been  driven 
thus  far  landward,  during  some  strong  northerly  gale,  years 
before — now  fixed  steadfastly  under  the  shade  of  these 
Avillows,  upon  whose  ragged  side,  as  worn,  and  weather- 
beaten,  and  ragged-looking  men,  had  sometimes  come  and 
Bat,  peering  over  the  deep,  and  blessing  the  hairy  front  which 


PREP  A  RATIONS  FOR  A  START.  53 

also  frowned  or  smiled  upon  their  native  shores.  And  the 
path  leading  to  the  town,  the  path  that  I  daily  travelled,  in 
some  places,  winding  back  far  into  the  bush,  and  again 
curving  outward,  so  as  to  give  a  full  view  of  the  sea ;  no 
"  primrose  path,"  and  yet  much  frequented  at  tliat  time,  rich 
in  mud  and  slimy  spots,  but  still  picturesque  from  its  luxuri- 
ant borders  of  alder,  mangrove,  and  palatuvia,  chequered  as 
they  were  on  either  side  with  towering  palms  and  cocoa- 
nut  trees,  with  now  a  straggling  ray  of  sunshine  lingering 
momentarily  aloft  on  their  dark  green  branches,  and  anon  a 
merry  party  of  rain-drops  playfully  dancing  over  them  in 
their  downward  tramp.  These  ai"e  some  of  the  features  of 
the  scene. 

Nothing  remarkable  in  all  this,  you  will  say.  Perhaps 
not,  yet  it  was  something  to  have  the  great  heaving  sea 
evermore  at  one's  door,  muttering  like  an  old  fireside  crone 
of  unfathomable  mysteries  ;  to  see  it  during  the  long  days, 
in  all  its  many  moods,  and  feel  it  so  near,  that  one  could 
lay  liis  hand  at  any  moment  on  its  shaggy  mane,  to  watch 
it  darkening  beneath  the  forecoming  shadow  of  night, 
changing  then  its  tales  from  the  glory  of  proud  navies  that 
liad  ridden  upon  its  bosom  to  the  sad  fate  of  manly  hearts, 
and  rosy,  smiles,  that  had  sunk  and  been  quenched  for  ever 
in  its  turbulent  depths ;  and  to  wake  during  the  still  dark- 
ness or  no  less  solemn  moonlight,  and  hear  it  yet  there, 
with  a  more  melancholy  murmur  in  its  deep  voice,  as  if  the 
dead  everywhere  sleeping  in  its  bosom,  made  restless  moan- 
ing over  their  lost  years  of  life. 

There  was  an  awful  grandeur,  too,  in  the  recollection,  that 
while  all  other  voices  of  earth  had  changed  or  passed  away, 
this  world-reverberating  music  of  the  sea  had  been  sounding 
on  evermore  the  same  from  the  creation ;  like  a  deep 
eternal  undertone,  stirring  the  soul  in  its  profoundest  depths. 


64  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

Truly   us    well   as   be auli fully,   has    Eogland's   woman  poet 
suug  :  — 

"  Tiie  Doriau  flute  that  sighed  of  yore, 
Along  tliy  wave  is  still, 
The  harp  of  Judah  peals  no  more. 
On  Zion's  awful  hill. 

"  And  mute  the  Moorish  liorn  tliat  rang 

O'er  stream  and  mountain  free, 
And  the  hymn  the  leagued  crusader  sang, 
Hath  died  in  Galilee. 

"  But  thou  art  swelling  on,  thou  deep. 

Through  many  an  olden  clime, 
Thy  billowy  anthem  ne'er  to  sleep, 
Until  the  close  of  time." 

A.nd  it  was  something  to  know,  that  on  the  other  hand 
were  the  hills,  whos^e  fastnesses  man  liad  not  penetrated, 
but  within  whose  deep  rich  glens,  and  dark  shadowy  jun- 
gles, masses  of  animal  life  were  revelling  and  rejoicing, 
although  to  our  dull  sense  they  rose  up  silent,  solitary,  and 
forbidding — evergreen  liills,  upon  whose  summits  or  slop- 
ing sides  no  snow  or  ice  liad  ever  lain,  but  where  vegetation 
bloomed  and  died  and  bloomed  again,  and  presented  always 
the  same  perennial  front  of  verdure.  It  was  curious  to  see 
how  steadfastly  but  vainly  the  ocean  kept  sending  its  pha- 
lanxes of  waves  to  overrun  this  green  domain,  and  how  some- 
times the  salt  from  its  spray  would  lodge  upon  the  branches 
of  trees  far  up  the  hill  sides,  and  their  green  leaves  and 
clinging  mosses  would  droop  as  if  poisoned  ;  and  then  to 
see  a  friendly  power  rush  out  from  its  ambush  in  the  skies — 
no  less  than  an  army  of  rain-drops,  which  would  do  their 
woik  so  thoroughly,  in  purifying  and  cleaning  these  delicate 


PREPARATIONS  J'OR  A  START.  55 

dresses  of  the  wood,  that  each  shrub  and  bush  and  dark 
old  tree  looked  all  the  fi-esher  and  more  sparkling  in  the 
next  ray  of  sunshine  which  came  thither.  This  water  from 
heaven,  in  its  kindly  mission,  found  its  way  into  the  very 
thickest  of  the  glade,  and  it  was  no  uncommon  thing  to  see 
masses  of  vapor  in  the  early  dawn  which  we  might  consider 
as  its  disembodied  spirit,  hovering  about  these  green  declivi- 
ties, and  gradually  soaring  heavenward.  But  why  refer  to 
all  this — well  enough  in  a  poet,  which  I  am  not,  or  a  child, 
which  I  can  never  be  again :  only  to  show  the  free  and 
intense  style  of  life  which  we  then  led.  Because  in  the 
breaking  up  and  absence  of  conventional  forms  we  had 
seemed  to  get  back  nearer  to  the  old  mother  nature,  and  lay 
as  it  were  more  tranquilly  on  her  bosom.  Our  insignificant 
bodies  dwindled  as  the  face  of  the  old  mother  grew  warm, 
distinct,  and  loving.  What  if  infection  pervaded  the  air 
we  breathed.  Did  we  not,  on  that  account,  feel  a  kindlier 
interest  in  the  stars,  and  the  blue  arch,  and  yet  love  the 
cheery  earth  none  the  less  ?  /  Can  a  man  evade  death  by 
being  a  coward ;  and  where  can  he  die  so  well  as  where 
sympathies  from  the  infinite  heart  of  the  world  seem  to  be 
drawing  him  thitherward  ?   ' 

Often  since,  when  'stifling  in  close  streets,  with  the  faces 
of  ungenial  men  hemming  me  in,  or  stalled,  as  it  were,  in  a 
set  form  of  daily  life,  a  stupid  routine  of  dull  duties,  have  I 
looked  back  upon  these  wild  scenes  with  an  inward  chafen- 
ing  and  pining  to  be  away.  It  has  seemed  as  if  I  would 
give  weeks,  aye  months,  of  this  dull  life  for  a  few  hours  of 
that. 

It  has  been  objected  to  adventure,  that  it  unfits  one  for 
the  sober  pursuits  of  life  ;  but  who  on  this  account  would 
shut  his  eyes  to  the  picture  of  loveliness  which  the  great 
Father,  every   morning   and    evening,   unrolls  afresh  ?  and 


56  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

how  can  he  so  well  see  and  feel  all  its  wonderful  delicacy 
and  eternal  beauty,  as  by  shaking  oft"  his  native  sluggishness, 
and  going  out  in  simplicity  of  heart  and  habits,  to  sojourn 
amid  new  and  unaccustomed  scenes  ?  lie  is,  indeed,  a  / 
pitiful  object  to  contemplate  who  can  live  amid  the  grand, 
and  beautiful,  and  heroic,  either  in  the  natural  or  moral 
world,  and  be  none  the  better  for  it. 

"Eut  tills  we  iVoin  ttie  mountains  learn, 
And  this  the  valleys  show, 
That  never  will  they  deign  to  hold 
Communion  where  the  heart  is  cold. 
To  Ininian  weal  and  woe. 

"The  man  of  al-joct  soiil  in  vain 
Shall  walk  the  Marathonian  plain. 

Or  thread  the  shadowy  gloom, 
That  still  infests  the  guardian  pass. 
Where  stood  sublime  Leonidas, 

Devoted  to  the  tomb." 

v'  There  was  no  lack  of  lieroism  in  the  character  of  these 
:  "sturdy,  on-pushing  gold-hunters  ;  there  was  grandeur  in  the 
'  unrivalled  hardships  which  they  voluntarily  endured  i^  this 
stage  of  their  experience,  and  sublimity  in  some  of  the 
attending  circumstances,  for  daily  at  Chagres  heaven's 
artillery  thundered  forth  its  salvos,  and  nightly  its  lightning 
flashes  were  the  literal  lamp  of  the  voyagers  mounting  or 
descending  the  i-iver. 

"  Something  too  much  of  this."  To  go  on  then  with  n)y 
story  :  On  reaching  the  point  we  found  the  few  friends  who 
were  to  come  into  our  party,  ready  and  waiting  to  receive 
us.  Among  these  were  Messrs.  Vale  and  Parkins,  the  former 
of  whom  had  decided,  <^)n  the  whole,  that  "  the  camel  busi- 
ness was  the  best  thing  going,''  and  had  fully  made  up  his 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  A  START.  67 

mind  to  stick  to  it,  until  something  better  shoukl  present 
itself.  This  volatile  gentleman  was  seated  in  the  centre  of  a 
heap  of  baggage,  and  liis  conspicuous  position  would,  doubt- 
less, have  helped  to  set  off  his  native  advantages,  had  he  not 
been  doubled  up  like  Wordsworth's , book-worm.  In  fact, 
he  was  just  then  engaged  in  opening  a  liquor-case  contain- 
ing several  descriptions  of  cordials,  besides  gin,  brandy,  and 
old  Jamaica.  After  drawing  forth  a  couple  of  bottles  suc- 
cessively, holding  them  towards  the  sun,  and  taking  a  small 
sip  of  each,  he  returned  them  to  his  case  with  a  dissatisfied 
air,  and  at  length  produced  a  third,  the  color  and  taste  of 
which  seemed  to  suit.  He  first  threw  his  head  backward, 
with  a  jerk,  then  gave  three  or  four  twists  of  his  wiry  neck, 
as  many  stretchings  of  his  lengthy  arms,  and  at  last  cleared 
his  throat  with  a  hem  or  two  preparatory  to  a  generous 
draught  All  thiS  time  Parkins  stood  by,  looking  on  with 
a  countenance  in  which  disappointment,  contempt,  and  anger 
were  curiously  mingled.  Wlien  Vale  raised  the  bottle  to  his 
lips  with  the  deliberation  of  a  man  about  to  take  a  final  pull, 
Parkins  could  restrain  himself  no  longer ;  bending  forward 
slightlj  to  get  into  a  posture  which  enabled  his  hand  to 
reach  the  coveted  flask,  he  struck  it  such  a  well  aimed  blow 
as  sent  the  liquor  into  the  nose  and  eyes,  as  well  as  stomach 
of  the  thirsty  Vale,  and  then  grabbing  it  as  it  fell,  he,  Par- 
kins, ste[iped  nimbly  beyond  the  reach  of  his  companion's 
sledge-hammer  arm. 

But  the  latter  was  in  no  wise  disconcerted  by  the  abrupt 
termination  of  his  enjoyment.  Rising  up,  he  cast  a  mildly 
reproving  glance  at  the  retreating  foe. 

"  Solomon,"  said  he,  in  an  aflfectionate  tone,  "  how  often 
shall  I  have  to  caution  you  against  indulging  in  this  love  of 
strong  drink !" 

"Just  hear  him  !"  said  Parkins,  who  had  fortified  himself 
3* 


58  LIFE  OA    THF.  I.STHMUS. 

with  no  homoeopathic  dose, "  he  never  drinks ;  oh,  no,  he  tastes ; 
except  of  course,  gentlemen,  when  he  has  the  bilious  colic, 
and  that's  a  complaint  he's  pretty  generally  troubled  with." 

'J'he  camels  were  kneeling,  and  we  had  left  our  seats  to 
superintend  the  packing  of  our  companions'  baggage. 

"  Whose  is  all  this  ?"  said  I,  pointing  to  the  heap  of 
trunks,  boxes,  bags,  etcetera,  in  the  vicinity  of  Vale,  "  a 
formidable  lot  truly." 

"  That  is  some  of  mine,"  replied  Vale,  nowise  abashed  at 
tlie  implied  tenor  of  my  interrogatory,  "  the  rest  of  it  is  com- 
ing ;  I  have  got  two  natives  in  my  employ  since  an  hour,  and 
nearly  half  of  it  is  along  already  !" 

"  But  it  is  not  possible,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  have  twice 
as  much  baggage  as  we  see  here  ;  why,  you  have  already 
a  load  for  two  camels." 

"  I  told  him  repeatedly,"  observed  '  Parkins,  coming  for- 
ward, "  that  he  would  never  get  it  across." 

"  It  is  even  so,  nevertheless,''  reiterated  tlie  senior  partner, 
'•and  I  do  not  see  that  I  can  well  spare  anything;  but  let  it 
be  as  you  say,  gentlemen,  in  that  matter." 

"  What  is  to  be  done  ?"  inquired  the  Major,  for  it  was  cer- 
tainly out  of  the  (question  to  think  of  lumbering  our  camels 
up  with  this  mass  of  things. 

"Sell  the  superfluous  at  auction,"  said  Tom,  with  the 
ready  wit  for  which  he  was  remarkable. 

"  Parbleu !"  said  Monsieur  Crapolet,  "  Je  n'ai  pas  trop — 
he  can  well  divide  with  me." 

Monsieur  Crapolet  spoke  truly,  for  the  heart  of  the  gene- 
rous Frenchman  was  his  greatest  possession.  In  point  of 
worldly  goods  he  had  but  his  fowling-piece  and  ammunition, 
the  contents  of  his  basket,  and  Thom's  pagara,  whatever  the 
latter  might  have  been.  But  as  his  proposition  did  not  seem 
to  meet  exactly  the  merits  of  the  case,  it  was  unanimously 


PREPARATIOSS  FOR  A  START.  59 

voted  that  Tom's  plan  be  adopted,  and  furthermore,  that  he 
should  officiate  as  auctioneer. 

^\Tien  this  decision  was  officially  announced,  Monsieur 
Crapolet  produced  a  tin  horn  from  the  pagara  of  Thorn,  with 
which  he  proposed  to  call  the  amateurs  together  musically, 
on  condition  of  his  being  allowed  two  drinks  to  our  one. 
Vale,  who  had  seemed  by  his  looks  to  rather  demur  to  the 
first  proposition  of  Tom,  looked  even  blanker  at  this  second 
one  of  Crapolet,  but  it  was  carried  notwithstanding,  without 
a  dissenting  voice. 

The  first  case  opened,  happened  to  contain  books,  and  the 
first  book  taken  out  was  Bowditch's  Navigator. 

"  Here  it  is,"  shouted  Tom,  "  a  book  which  ought  to  be 
found  in  every  well  regulated  family ;  contains  particular  di- 
rections about  crossing  the  Isthmus,  also  how  to  make  salt 
water  out  of  fresh  (sailors  I  mean,  of  course.) — Let's  see ; 
here  is  the  title  page — '  Bowditch's  Navigator,  Mercator  Sail- 
ing, short  cut  from  Cruces  to  Panama,'  &c.,  &c., — lunar  ob- 
servations, world  without  end — how  much  is  ofiered  for 
Nathaniel !" 

.  If  my  memory  serves  me  right,  "  Nathaniel  "  was  pur- 
chased by  a  swarthy  native,  who  had  evidently  been 
pleasantly  excited  by  the  allusion  to  Cruces  and  Panama, 
for  the  sum  of  three  dollars.  The  performances  of  Monsieur 
Crapolet  upon  the  tin  horn  had  been  eminently  successful. 
A  crowd  speedily  collected  about  Tom  and  his  wares,  and 
the  book  sales  went  on  briskly. 

"  The  next  work  on  the  catalogue,"  said  the  auctioneer,  "  is 
this  splendidly  bound  edition  of  Byron,  with  a  life  by  Bulwer, 
as  the  Ethiopian  poet  says,  no  less  beautifully  than  truly  : 

"  Oh,  Bulwer  he  wrote  William  Tell, 

And  Spokesheare  wrote  Oteller, 
Lord  Byron,  he  wrote  weiy  well, 
But  Dickens — he  wrote  Weller!" 


60  LIPE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"  How  much  for  this  splendid  edition  of  Byron  ?" 

"  Bee-rong  ! "  shouted  Monsieur  Crapolet  correctively. 
"  C'est  bien  drole  que  les  Anglais  ne  peuvent  jamais  ap- 
prendre  a  prononcer  meme  les  noms  de  leurs  poetes  les  plus 
distingues." 

It  is  proper  here  to  observe  that  Sampson  Vale  had  up  to 
this  time  been  attentively  Avatching  the  movements  of  the 
auctioneer,  and  had  not  remarked  that  Thom,  at  the  instiga- 
tion of  his  master,  had  removed  the  liquor-case  from  his 
side,  and  deposited  it  carefully  within  reach  of  Monsieur 
Crapolet.  But  this  gratuitous  observation  of  the  latter  had 
drawn  our  attention  towards  him,  and  to  the  great  horror  of 
Vale,  there  he  v>'as,  this  victim  of  a  broken  heart,  reclining 
cosily  Tipon  a  sea  chest,  with  a  brandy  tlask  in-  one  hand  and 
a  "petit  verre"  in  the  other,  a  perfect  Jupiter  of  good  hu- 
mor and  conviviality  in  the  midst  of  his  attendant  gods, 
to  whom  Thom,  with  a  second  flask  and  "  petit  verre,"  offi- 
ciated in  the  character  of  a  venerable  Ganymede.  Strange 
to  say,  I  noticed  Parkins  in  this  group  of  celestials. 

While  the  Major  was  superintending  the  packing  of  the 
camels,  I  strolled  up  to  the  "  Empire  City,"  partly  to  get  & 
fresh  box  of  "  Wandering  Jews,"  and  partly  to  say  good-bye 
to  its  brave  voung  landlord. 

Vitti  was  in  the  dining-room  of  his  hotel,  seated  at  table 
ii)  company  with  two  others,  card-playing.  One  of  his  com- 
panions was  the  French  nobleman.  Count  de  G .  I  sup- 
pose the  Count  had  been  a  winner  at  the  time  I  entered,  for 
on  seeing  me,  he  rose  and  proposed  breaking  off  the  game. 
This  Vitti  passionately  refused  to  do,  saying  that  he  had 
lost  everything  but  his  hotel  and  land,  and  was  determined 
to  risk  that  for  Avhat  it  was  worth.  They  played  one  more 
round,  and  Vitti  was  a  poor  man  with  not  a  cent  in  the 
world. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  A  START.  01 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  rising,  and  looking  steadily  at  the 
Count,  "  I  am  ruined  ;  but  it  was  fairly  done.  You  may 
consider  me  as  your  guest  till  I  can  find  business." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Count ;  "  my  dear  Angelo,  this  must  not 
be.  Keep  your  house  and  lands ;  I  do  not  need  them.  But 
for  your  generous  aid  my  heirs  would  have  been  ere  long  in 
possession  of  my  property,  and  you  had  retained  yours." 

"  I  scorn  to  receive  pay,"  replied  Vitti,  "  for  doing  what  I 
should  have  been  a  wretch  to  have  left  undone.     Neverthe- 
less, for  my  sister's  sake,  I  will  continue  here  awhile  as  your 
agent,  till  I  can  repay  you  for  your  advances." 
.  .".Let  it  be  for  your  sister's  sake,  then,"  said  the  Count. 

The  third  party  present,  whom  I  recognised  as  the  owner 
of  the  snake  which  had  bitten  Vale,  smiled  darkly  at  this 
arrangement,  as  if  he  saw  something  infernal  in  the  transac- 
tion, which  pleased  him  on  that  account. 

"  Vitti,"  said  I,  as  I  shook  him  by  the  hand  on  leaving, 
"  this  is  a  wild,  lawless  country.  The  only  rule  of  action  here, 
as  you  well  know,  is  the  barbaric  one  that  '  might  makes 
right.'  We  can't  tell  what  may  happen  ;  but  if  any 
trouble  comes  to  you,  remember  that,  for  one,  I  am  your 
friend." 

"  It's  not  for  myself,"  replied  Vitti  earnestly,  "that  I  appre- 
hend anything,  at  least  anything  more  than  my  deserts.  I 
am  but  a  reckless  vagabond  at  the  best ;  my  whole  life  has 
been  a  miserable  mistake,  and  it's  too  late  to  try  to  correct 
it,  even  if  I  knew  where  to  begin.  But  with  my  sister  it  is 
very  different ;  she  is  as  pure  and  stainless  as  a  little  child. 
Now,  whilst  I  live,  I  can  protect  her  to  the  extent  of  my  life. 
But  if  anything  should  happen  to  me — you  know  what  I 
would  say,  sir." 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  I,  "  and  you  may  be  certain  that 
it  shall  be  as  you  desire  ;  only  let  me  beg  of  you  to  be  care- 


62  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

ful  of  your  w  urds  and  actions  for  her  sake,  and  not  recklessly 
peril  a  life  which  has  so  nnicli  depending  on  it." 

Vitti  wiped  the  tears  from  his  eyes  with  one  hand  as  he 
shook  mine  nervously  with  the  other ;  and  so  we  parted.  On 
reaching  the  point  again,  I  found  tte  auction  terminated, 
and  several  new  features  introduced  upon  the  face  of  things. 


LA  RUVTE.  63 


CHAPTER  Vr. 


EN    ROUTE. 


EVERYTHING  was  now  in  order  ibr  Ji  start.  Tbo  ohuk'Is 
were  packed,  and  the  barges  wliich  were  to  transport 
tlieni  and  us  across  the  river  were  in  readiness  at  the  levee. 
This  being  the  case,  I  was  somewhat  surprised  to  see  the 
lieaps  of  baggage  belonging  to  Messrs.  Vale  and  Parkins 
lying  still  upon  the  sand,  and  the  camels  destined  for  their 
accommodation  freighted  with  other  packages.  It,  at  .first, 
occurred  to  me  that  the  former  of  these  two  gentlemen  had 
become  dissatisfied  at  the  summary  manner  in  which  Tom  was- 
disposing  of  his  mental  food,  or  the  not  less  summary  dis- 
position of  his  creature  comforts  by  Monsieur  Crapolet.  I 
was,  therefore,  even  more  surprised  to  notice  upon  a  second 
glance  the  tall  figure  of  Signor  Vale,  a  little  apart  from  the 
group  it  is  true,  but  surveying  them  with  a  loving  and  bene- 
volent glow  upon  his  face,  and  a  certain  fire  in  his  eye, 
which  flickered  brilliantly  as  it  roamed  over  the  entire  scene, 
the  while  his  lips  smacked  approvingly  in  token  of  a  most 
portentous  inward  satisfaction. 

"  My  dear  Vale,"  said  I,  approaching  him,  a  little  too 
abruptly  perhaps,  considering  his  exalted  mood  of  mind ;  for 
I  had  really  come  to  feel  a  liking  for  this  curious  man.  "  I 
trust  that  we  are  not  to  lose  the  pleasure  of  your  company 
in  our  journey  across  the  Isthmus." 

"  Pretty  good !"  observed  Parkins,  who,  with  a  singular 


64  LIFE  OX  THE  ISTHMUS. 

perverseness  of  mind,  evidently  understood  me  as  speaking 
satirically. 

"  Ah,"  said  Vale,  coming  to  himself,  and  calling  in  his 
wandering  fancies  with  a  jerk  as  it  were.  "  Yes,  yes,  you 
speak  truly.  I  shall  not  be  of  your  party  across  the 
Isthmus.  Are  you  aware,  sir.  that  since  you  left  us,  but  a 
moment  ago,  sir,  in  j.oiUl  ui  June,  a  great  idea  has  come 
to  me?" 

"  Quanto  Valley,"  said  Parkins,  more  savagely  than  the 
occasion,  seeined  to  warrant,  "  has  had  great  ideas  enough 
in  his  lifetime  to  have  ruined  the  whole  world." 

"  Solomon,"  returned  his  companion  aflectionately,  "  let 
me  entreat  of  you  not  to  parade  thus  the  superficial  charac- 
ter of  your  mind." 

"  As  I  was  about  to  observe,  it  has  occurred  to  me 
in  looking  over  this  sandy  patch,  seeing  it  in  its  present 
state,  and  reflecting  upon  its  capabilities,  that  there  are  great 
things  to  be  done  here.  The  trouble  thus  far  has  been,  I 
opine,  the  want  of  a  head,  one  great  directing  power  to  see 
its  wants,  and  with  brains  sufficient  to  devise  ways  and 
means  to  meet  them." 

"  Say  rather  a  heart,"  said  a  young  man  who  had  just 
joined  us  ;  "  a  great  heart  teeming  with  affection,  a  heart 
large  enough  to  embrace  all  these  weary  people  in  the  folds 
of  its  love.  Let  such  a  heart  make  its  abode  here,  seeking 
nothing,  thinking  nothing,  knowing  nothing  but  the  good 
and  liappiness  of  all  around  it;  and  do  you  not  think  that  a 
bright  radiance  would  go  out  thence,  which  would  beau- 
tify this  place  even  a«  thoroughly  as  it  would  purify  it? 
Now  you,  sir,  were  no  doubt  thinking  of  draining  these 
marshes,  of  establishing  sanitary  regulations,  of  laying  out 
streets,  of  founding  a  liospital." 

"  Quite  right,  sir.     You  see  that  mountain  but  little  over 


EN  ROUTE.  65 

a  mile  distant.  ^^hy  we  eoiild  lay  u  strap  rail  from  thence 
to  the  point,  put  on  our  dirt  cars,  and  vvitli  a  few  mules,  we 
would  bring  this  whole  township  high  and  dry  on  a  beauti- 
ful slope.  We  should  in  the  first  place  lay  alongside  of  the 
alcaide  and  priest,  secure  a  grant,  then " 

"  Lay  alongside  of  the  padre  first,  get  his  good  graces, 
and  I'll  guarantee  the  rest  of  the  jockeys." 

This  latter  observation  proceeded  from  one  of  the  two 
gentlemen,  who,  at  that  moment,  had  joined  our  group  in 
company  with  Tom.  The  speaker,  whom  Tom  announced 
as  Judge  Smithers,  was  a  large  robust  man  of  florid  com- 
plexion, short  square  whiskers,  blue  eyes,  a  broad  head,  large 
nose,  and  a  mouth  in  which  good  practical  common  sense 
seemed  to  well  up  as  it  were  spontaneously.  This  was  the 
most  remarkable  thing  about  the  man.  He  always  seemed 
to  have  the  very  item  of  information  or  suggestion  that  was 
needed  rolling  upon  his  tongue,  like  a  choice  tit-bit,  and  had 
only  to  open  his  mouth  for  it  to  roll  out. 

His  companion  was  presented  as  Colonel  Allen,  of  Mis- 
souri. He  was  not  so  large  a  man  as  the  judge,  and  had  a 
staring  kind  of  face,  very  red  as  if  from  hard  drinking.  His 
eyes  were  large,  wide  open,  and  considerably  bloodshot ;  and 
his  mouth,  which  was  also  large,  was  in  like  manner  gene- 
rally extended  beyond  its  natural  limits  by  an  inveterate 
habit  of  grinning,  wliich  he  had  probably  fallen  into  when 
quite  young. 

"  These  two  gentlemen,  and  this  third,  Mr.  Arthur  Orring- 
ton,"  said  Tom,  with  a  bow  towards  the  young  man,  to 
whom  I  have  already  alluded,  as  having  objected  in  a 
measure  to  one  of  Vale's  great  ideas,  "  are  to  join  us ;  and 
their  baggage  is  already  packed  in  lieu  of  that  of  these 
renegades  here,  Vale  and  Parkins.  But  I  am  not  the  boy 
to  interrupt  a  pleasant  story.     Pray  go  on,  Mr.  ^  ale." 


66  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

*'  I  was  saying,"  continued  Vale,  "  when  you  came  up,  that 
there  was  a  great  chance  for  improvement  here." 

"  I  guess  you  hit  it  there,"  said  the  judge,  who,  as  Tom 
subsequently  informed  me,  was  not  exactly  a  judge  in  point 
of  law,  but  was  a  great  judge  of  horseflesh,  and  had  run  the 
first  line  of  stages  from  Vera  Cruz  to  the  city  of  Mexico. 

"  The  subscriber  is  ready  to  make  affidavit  to  that  effect," 
added  the  Colonel.  This  gentleman  I  afterwards  learned 
was  a  printer  by  profession,  and  from  his  invariably  alluding 
to  himself  as  "  the  subscriber,"  am  inclined  to  think  that 
he  had  been  mostly  employed  in  the  advertising  depart- 
ment. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Parkins,  anxious  for  his  friend  to  arrive 
at  a  point  where  so  great  unanimity  would  not  probably 
prevail. 

"  And,  as  I  was  going  to  say,  that  having  filled  up  this 
back  marsh  here  and  secured  our  grant,  we  should  proceed 
to  survey  and  stake  off  lots,  lay  out  streets,  and  in  short 
make  a  regular  land  company  aftair  of  it.  Then  we  should 
build  a  breakwater  along  here,  from  the  point  out,  leaving  a 
space  between  that  and  the  opposite  coast  suitable  for  a  good 
ship  channel,  which  we  should  keep  of  sufficient  depth  by 
steam-scows — if  necessary,  spile  the  levee." 

"  Hold  on,  old  boy,"  exclaimed  the  Colonel,  "  and  allow 
the  subscriber  to  observe,  that,  in  his  humble  opinion,  the 
levee  here  bears  altogether  too  great  a  similarity  to  a 
decayed  egg  to  lie  in  any  possibility  of  spiling." 

"  Well  done,  Allen,"  retorted  Judge  Smithers,  "  for  a  San 
Francisco  editor  you  are,  certainly,  wonderfully  erudite.  By 
spiling  the  levee,  the  hombre  refers  to  driving  spiles  or  stout 
sticks  of  timber  along  its  banks  to  prevent  caving.  Where 
the  '  dosh'  is  to  come  from  to  carry  out  this  idea  does  not 
appear  as  yet, — but  doubtless  will." 


EN  ROUTE.  G7 

"  From  New  England,  Sir,  my  uutive  jjlace,''  said  V^ale 
majestically. 

"  Whew  !"  said  the  Colonel,  snapping  his  fingers,  as  if 
they  were  either  burnt  or  tingled  with  cold. 

The  judge  said  nothing,  but  contented  himself  with  hum- 
ming a  fragment  of  an  old  song,  familiar  to  our  childhood* 
beginning : 

"  Wlien  I  was  a  little  boy,  I  lived  by  myself, 
All  the  bread  and  clieese  I  got,  I  put  upon  the  snelf." 

"I  wish  you  joy  of  your  mission,"  said  Toic,  '•  and  hope 
you'll  stick  to  it." 

"  You  may  bet  high  on  that,"  concluded  Parkins  ;  "  oh, 
yes,  he'll  stick  to  it  like  cobbler's  wax  to  an  ile-stone." 

It  was  now  time  to  be  off.  The  bright  sun  was  shining;  in 
a  clear  sky,  and  it  was  deemed  expedient  to  take  advantage 
of  so  unusual  a  state  of  things.  We  left  Vale  still  under  the 
exhilarating  influence  of  his  new  idea,  with  Parkins  buzzing 
his  monotonous  undertone  of  discouragement  under  his  very 
nose.  Perhaps  after  all,  if  our  enthusiast  had  not  had  this 
outward,  palpable  drag  upon  him,  his  own  nature  might 
have  furnished  it  inwardly  ;  and  so  with  harsh  imaginings  of 
possible  difhculties  and  objections,  have  crushed  and  stifled 
its  gossamer  thread  of  life,  whereas  the  estimation  in  which 
he  lield  tlie  mental  cluiracter  of  his  associate,  rendered  him 
quite  regai'dless  of  his  opinions. 

I  could  not  help  observing,  in  the  person  of  our  new  com- 
rade, Colonel  Allen,  a  remarkably  reckless  style  of  dressing 
and  conducting  himself.  Wheiher  I  should  have  paid  any 
particular  heed  to  this  at  that  time,  I  do  not  know,  had  it 
not  formed  so  striking  a  contrast  to  the  costume  and  de- 
portment of  Mr.  Arthur  Orrington.  The  latter  gentleman 
had   «  mild,  pale  countenance,  with  a  touchingly  benevolent 


G8  LIFE  ON  711 E  ISTHMiS. 

expression,  and  a  soft,  alTectionate  eye.  He  looked  like  .a 
man  who  had  no  business  among-  the  liard,  rude,  selfish 
things  of  life.  His  dress  was  scrupulously  neat,  and  severelv 
correct,  in  point  of  taste  ;  so  simple  in  fact  as  to  suggest  the 
idea  of  a  ministerial  cliaraoter  in  the  wearer.  You  would 
have  known  at  once  upon  seeing  liim,  that  he  had  a  tixed 
and  certain  character  of  his  own,  that  was  made  to  set  its 
mark  somewhere,  perhaps  gently,  even  timidly,  hut  none  the 
less  firmly  and  durably  for  that. 

Now  the  Colonel  was  got  up  in  altogether  another  style. 
He  -had  evidently  been  battered  about  the  world,  and  was 
considerably  the  shabbier  for  it.  It  might  have  been  that 
some  great  wrong  done  to  him  when  young  had  broken  his 
manly  spirit,  and  made  him  careless  of  what  fortune  might 
have  left  for  him  among  her  stores ;  or,  it  might  have  been 
that  he  never  had  any  particular  character  at  all,  and  had 
fallen  into  rowdyism,  as  being  the  most  easy  and  natuial 
thing  to  do.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who  appear  always 
ready  for  whatever  the  moment  ofters,  the  more  outre  and 
bizarre  the  occupation,  the  better ;  an  entire  contempt  of 
anything  bordering  on  etiquette  or  formality,  and  a  perfect 
freedom  from  bashfulness  or  fear,  were  his  prominent  cha- 
racteristics. He  was  attired  in  a  seedy  bjack  dress-coat,  with 
coai-se  grey  trowsers,  a  blue  cloth  vest  ornamented  with  brass 
buttons,  stout  cow-hide  boots,  and  a  hat  far  gone  in  dilapi- 
dation. It  was  this  crowning  head-piece  which  gave  the 
final  touch  to  his  faded  and  shabby  (out  ensemble,  although, 
from  the  appearance  of  his  nether  garments,  one  might 
reasonably  liave  doubted  whether  he  were  on  liis  last  legs,  or 
merely  in  his  last  ))air  of  trowsers.  Colonel  Allen  was,  in 
.short,  the  beau  ideal  of  that  numerous  class,  known  as  "people 
not  well  to  do  in  the  world,"  or  "  men  who  have  seen  better 
days.''     How  many  of  this  class  do  we  daily  meet,  and  how 


EN  ROUTE.  69 

few  like  Arthur  Orrington ;  for  the  world  is  full  of  blight, 
and  ruin,  and  decay  ;  and  modesty,  charity,  and  unselfish- 
ness are  the  flowers  which  grow  rarely  among  its  noisome 
weeds. 

"We  got  our  camels  into  the  barges,  and  were  seating 
ourselves  to  be  ready  for  a  start,  but  Monsieur  Crapolet 
insisted  upon  Thorn's  serving  out  one  additional  drink.  It 
is,  peihaps,  hardly  fair  in  me  to  expose  the  fact,  that  our 
dejected  Frenchman  and  his  friends  had  already  drunk  the 
contents  of  five  of  the  flasks  in  Vale's  liquor-case,  leaving  but 
the  sixth,  which  was  now  to  be  sacrificed  upon  the  same  altar 
of  conviviality.  It  was  a  small  square  flask — as  Thorn 
poured  the  liquor  into  the  quaintly-cut  tiny  glasses,  it  glis- 
tened and  shone  in  the  bright  sunlight  with  a  ruby-like 
sparkle.  The  rough  conclave,  whom  the  doubly  bereaved 
lover  had  gathered  about  him,  received  each,  his  allotted 
part  with  a  reverential  air,  except,  indeed,  our  unterrified 
Colonel  from  Missouri. 

"  An  extra  tot  of  grog,"  said  he,  as  Thom  handed  him  his 
glass,  at  the  same  time  drawing  one  hand  from  his  trowsers' 
pocket,  and  ejecting  from  his  stained  and  reeking  mouth  a 
huge  quid  of  tobacco  ;  "  the  subscriber  is  open  to  conviction 
as  to  the  quality  of  the  liquor." 

"  It's  some  kind  of  French  cordial,"  observed  the  Judge  ; ''  it 
takes  the  French  to  mystify  us  in  the  stomachic  department." 

"Nothing  horizontal  about  it?"  inquired  the  Colonel. 

"  I  trust  not,  for  your  sake,"  replied  the  Judge. 

"  Messieurs,"  began  Monsieur  Crapolet,  and  there  was  a 
deep  silence  while  he  spoke ;  "  c'est  '  le  Parfait  Amour.' 
Whosoever  drinks  of  this  cordial  finds  therein  a  balm  for  a 
broken  heart,  for  it  begets  within  us  a  love  for  all  the  world. 
It  causes  us  to  forget  the  weariness  of  life,  and  helps  us  witk 
a  kindlv  arm  towards  our  final  resling-plaoe." 


'?0  LIFE  ON  THE  fS  Til  MLS. 

"  Fact,"  murmured  the  Colonel,  approvingly,  with  the  so- 
lemnity of  a  man  listening  to  a  religious  discourse. 

"  Messieurs,  nous  allons  boire  a  la  sante  de  tout  le  monde. 
Yes,  gentlemen,  this  is  the  distillation  of  that  evanescent 
spirit  of  love,  which  drifts  so  erratically  about  the  world. 
Thom,  you  old  villain,  fill  these  gentlemen's  glasses  again." 

Again  the  liquor,  with  a  glow  like  that  which  sometimes 
hangs  faint,  yet  ruddy,  upon  Italian  clouds  at  sunset,  trickled 
forth  into  the  stinted  glasses,  and  again  Monsieur  Crapolet 
resumed  his  discourse.  It  was  to  be  the  last  drink,  for  the 
flask  was  empty  ere  the  twelfth  glass  was  quite  full,  and  his 
remarks  in  consequence  took  a  more  melancholy  cast. 

"  Monsieur,  je  suis  nn  ours,  un  miserable  ours ;  you  will 
forgive  me  that  I  am  so  dull  and  imsociable,  for  I  am  very 
txnhappy." 

In  order  that  the  reader  may  the  better  understand  the 
full  force,  beauty,  and  effect  of  these  last  remarks  of  Mon- 
sieur Crapolet,  it  will  be  well  for  him  to  picture  that  gentle- 
man, as  he  then  appeared  in  a  posture  that  would  have  been 
recumbent,  but  for  the  protecting  arms  of  Thom,  with  his 
lower  jaw  slightly  inclined  to  droop,  his  eyes  now  roaming 
tenderly  over  the  crowd,  now  cast  upwards  to  Thom's  vene- 
rable visage,  with  an  expression  equalled  only  in  the  last 
agonies  of  an  expiring  grimalkin. 

"  Aye,  gentlemen,  there  is  no  future  for  me  but  what  is 
clouded  by  the  remembrances  of  the  past ;  there  is  no  peace 
but  in  the  grave.  Hold  on,  Thom,  you  scoundrel.  Gentle- 
men, had  I  married  Virginie — ou  bien  Mathilde — gently, 
Thom — I  shouldn't  have  been  the  miserable  outcast  that  you 
see  before  you.  If  it  wasn't  for  Thom  here — aye,  good  Thom 
— I  should  be  alone  in  the  world.  But  Thom — aye,  yes, 
Thom — good  Thom — kiss  me,  Thom  ;  one  more  drink  a  la 
sante  de — Thom." 


L\V   ROl'TE.  71 

And  with  these  words  lingering  upon  his  tongue,  Monsieur 
Crapolet  was  got  into  the  boat,  and  we  at  length  started  en 
route  for  the  native  side  of  Chagres, 

Disembarking  there,  we  engaged  a  small  boy,  a  lithe,  long- 
limbed,  straight-haired,  Indian-looking  little  fellow,  who 
came  well  recommended,  to  accompany  us  in  the  character 
of  guide ;  after  which  negotiation,  we  selected  our  places 
upon  the  camels,  and  were  speedily  rocking  through  the  old 
paved  street,  and  past  the  wretched  bamboo  huts  upon 
whose  front  the  religion  of  the  country,  expressed  in  the 
never-faihng  motto  of  "  poco  tiempo,"  is  written  in  unmis- 
takable  hieroglyphics.     IJXJL.IaA^^^ /an^  ^^^' 


12  LIFE  OS   Tffi:  ISTHMUS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A    TRAMP    IN    THE    WOODS. 

LEAVING  the  filthy  and  ruinous  hamlet  in  our  rear,  we 
crossed  the  brook  which  divides  it  from  the  dense  forests 
and  scrubby  hills  on  the  north.  We  cast  a  last  glance  at  the 
sea  upon  our  left  hand,  "  spitting  in  the  face  of  heaven," 
where  its  incomings  were  stayed  by  the  brown  old  rocks  of  , 
San  Lorenzo,  and  turned  our  heads  resolutely  towards  the 
wilderness  of  verdure,  whose  secret  chambers  we  were  about 
to  penetrate  unbidden. 

Why  not  ?     What  good  reason  is  there  to  hesitate  ?     Be- 
cause the  shadows  congregate  there,  are  we  on  that  account 
to  imagine  Irobgoblins  and  such  dire  personages  as  haunting 
the  spot  ?     Or  do  we  fear  the  known  and  possible  dangers  ! 
Nonsense  !     Man  goes  "  down  to  the  sea  in  ships,"  and  tra- 
verses the  barren  desert,  and  why  should  he  shrink  from  the 
jungle  of  the  dark  forest?    What  is  the  earth,  the  whole  of  • 
it,  but  the  play-ground  or  the  vineyard  which  our  Father  has 
made  for  the  labors  and  recreation  of  his  children,  and  there 
is  no  bound  set  beyond  which   we  may  not  pass.     Even  if  \ 
the  worst  comes,  and  we  are  mortally  injured  by  our  daring,   i 
are  we  not  taken  to  our  Father's  house,  where  our  wounds  ^ 
shall  be  healed  for  ever  ?    Come  on,  then. 

On  quitting  the  clean  hills  in  the  vicinity  of  the  fort,  our 
road  at  first  lay  through  a  dense  portion  of  balata  and  other 
timber,  where  there  was  but  little  undergrowth.  Here  we 
made  good  trav<>Hiug.     The  soil  was  firm,  and  the  passage 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  WOODS.  73 

amongst  the  trees  of  ample  width  to  permit  our  animals  to 
pass  with-  ease.  The  tall  monarchs  of  the  forest  shook  their 
evergreen  leaves,  amid  which  the  wind  and  birds  made 
music  pleasantly  above  our  heads,  distilling  thence  a  refresh- 
ing coolness  ;  while  beneath  our  feet  the  broad  flakes  of  sun- 
light which  lay  scattered  in  irregular  little  clusters,  made  the 
earth  to  resemble  a  rich  carpet  quaintly  chequered  with 
green  and  gold.  It  was  quite  inspiriting  to  journey  through 
a  country  where  nature  wore  so  genial  and  vigorous  a  front. 
It  is  true  that  we  were  sometimes  reminded  of  the  inevitable 
lot  of  all  things  earthly,  by  coming  suddenly  upon  the  trunk 
of  an  old  tree,  which  had  fallen  from  extreme  age,  perhaps, 
years  before,  and  which  the  great  ants  of  the  Tropics  were 
carrying  ofi"  piecemeal,  staggering  along  in  Indian  file  under 
their  load  of  rotten  timber.  And  sometimes,  too,  but  not 
often,  a  decayed  and  broken  branch  hung  down  directly 
across  our  pathway,  forcing  the  camels  very  unwillingly  from 
their  straightforward  path.  If  there  is  an  animal  to  be 
admired  for  his  undeviating  perseverance  in  what  he  is 
pleased  to  consider  his  road  of  duty,  it  is  certainly  the  camel. 
Taking  it  for  granted  that  he  is  right,  he  follows  up  the 
balance  of  David  Crockett's  motto,  and  goes  ahead  with  an 
unflinching  exactitude.  There  is  something  majestic  in  the 
way  in  which  he  ignores  obstacles  ;  which,  be  it  noted  never- 
theless, are  at  times  more  disastrous  to  his  rider  than  to  his 
own  yielding,  but  thick-laid  hide. 

Now  it  happened  that  after  entering  this  wooded  tract, 
some  of  us  had  dismounted,  and  were  making  our  way  on 
foot,  and  it  further  happened  that  Judge  Sraithers  and  I  found 
ourselves  promenading  together  alongside  of  the  camel  which 
bore  the  Major  and  his  wife.  Behind  him  rode  the  disconso- 
late Monsieur  Crapolet,  with  his  faithful  boy  Thom,  marching 
squire-like  at  his  side.    The  Major  being  very  tall  and  straight, 

4 


•74  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

had  had  one  or  two  narrow  escapes  of  his  bair  from  the  low- 
hanging  branches  beneath  which  we  were  travelHng.  At 
length  he  dropped  off  and  joined  our  pedestrian  party. 

"  I  began  to  feel,"  said  he,  "  as  if  my  father's  prediction 
was  about  to  be  realized,  and  tliat  I  should  indeed  live  to  be 
hung — but  it  would  have  been  like  Absalom — by  the  hair." 

As  the  ]\Iajor  spoke,  the  melody  of  Monsieur  Crapoiet's 
horn,  on  which  instrument  of  tin  that  unhappy  but  tuneful 
"  ours  "  had  been  performing  some  extra  shakes  for  our  edi- 
fication, suddenly  ceased,  and  a  fiercely  uttered  "  sacre  !"  in 
its  stead,  drew  our  attention  towards  the  performer.  He 
was  in  rather  a  laughable  predicament.  It  appeared  that  in 
the  satisfaction  which  he  had  experienced  in  the  execution  of 
a  remarkably  successful  shake,  he  had  been  led  immediately 
afterwards  into  a  triumphant  flourish  of  the  instrument  itself, 
and  that,  reaching  his  arm  at  too  great  a  length  about  his 
head,  it  had  become  entangled  in  the  branches  of  a  tree. 
Now  the  camel  on  which  he  rode,  finding  that  his  rider  was 
in  trouble,  kn<:lt,  according  to  custom  in  such  cases,  leaving 
our  cjuondara  musician  hanging — not  like  Absalom,  for,  alas, 
Monsieur  Crapolet,  as  already  described,  was  bald — but  in 
precisely  the  style  in  which  you  often  see  a  sloth  clinging, 
"by  the  day  together,  with  one  of  his  fore  legs  twisted  round 
an  over-hanging  limb  ;  and  with  somewhat  of  the  distin- 
guished grace  with  which  the  sloth  falls,  when  the  same  limb 
is  severely  shaken,  did  our  fellow-voyager  tumble  to  the 
ground.  One  v/ould  have  thought,  from  his  plump  figure, 
that  he  would  have  rebounded  at  the  touch  like  a  ball  of 
India-rubber ;  but  if  the  truth  must  be  confessed,  Monsieur 
Crapoiet's  corporeal  frame  was  at  that  moinent  so  thorough- 
ly saturated  with  Maraschino,  "petit  lait,"  and  " le  Parfait 
Amour,"  that  he  fell  flat  and  heavy  as  a  moist  sponge. 

"  Liquor  is  down,"  observed  Colonel  Allen,  with  what  I 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  WOODS.  1o 

believe  is  termed  a  liorse-laugli,  '•  now  then,  stranger,  give 
us  some  of  the  low  notes." 

"  It's  the  old  destiny,"  said  the  Major,  "  a  man  can't  be 
generous  and  rise  to  any  height  of  gaiety  without  suffering 
afterwards  a  corresponding  relapse.  Eve's  generosity  was 
the  cause  of  Adam's  fall." 

"The  Major  is  certainly  very  clear-headed,  and  apropos 
with  his  biblical  ideas,"  remarked  Tom. 

"  He  goes  right  to  the  core  of  things,"  said  the  Colonel,  with 
a  pleasant  smile, 

"  My  opinion  is,"  said  the  Judge,  "  that  something  stronger 
than  cider  is  at  the  bottom  of  this.  I  don't  recollect  to  have 
ever  met  a  walking  demijohn  capable  of  holding  a  greater 
quantity  of  the  stuff." 

The  unfortunate  subject  of  these  remarks  was  now  upon 
his  legs  again,  thanks  to  the  kind  attentions  of  Thorn,  and 
able  to  answer  for  himself. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  as  he  scramliled  back  upon  his 
camel,  "  such  is  life ;  to-day  we  are  in  the  empyrean  of  pros- 
perity, to-morrow  — " 

"  Floored,"  suggested  Colonel  Allen. 

"  Exactemeut ;  as  the  English  Lord  13oir-le-grog  used  to 
say  when  iu  Paris." 

"  Not  l>olingbroke  ?"  quei-ieJ  the  Judge. 

'*  Bolingbroke  or  Boir-le-grog,  f'a  m'est  egal — as  this  famoas 
English  lord  used  to  say." 

"  Excuse  my  laughing,"  interrupted  Tom,  "  but  really  I 
could  not  help  it,  such  a  droll  figure  as  you  cut,  sir,  hanging 
to  that  tree,  a  martyr  to  the  love  of  music." 

"  A  man  with  a  horn  too  much,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"And  then  afterwards,"  continued  Tom,  "as  you  lay 
sprawling  upon  the  ground ;  oh,  it  was  excellent.  If 
Virginie  could  have  seen  you  in  that  position,  how  she 
would  have  pitied  von.  poor  girl." 


76  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"  Young  man,"  returned  the  discarded  lover,  with  a  mock 
serious,  sentimental  air,  "  you jiever  said  a  truer  thing.  It  is 
when  in  adverse  circumstances,  that  woman  loves  man  best. 
The  great  trouble  with  me  has  always  been  that  I  have  been 
too  fortunate  in  life.  Now  when  I  returned  to  France  from 
Guiana,  I  had  none  of  the  fascinating,  bilious  hue  of  the 
Tropics.  Parbleu,  I  was  as  fresh  and  rosy  as  if  I  had  been 
leading  a  gay  life  among  the  salons  and  cafes  of  Paris.  If 
I  had  come  back,  for  instance,  subject  to  the  fever  and  ague, 
and  required  constant  nursing,  or  showed  in  my  debilitated 
frame  the  weakening  effects  of  the  Torrid  zone,  I  think  I 
can  safely  predict  who  would  have  been  the  husband  of 
Virginie,  or  at  all  events  Mathilde." 

"  But  you  said  that  they  were  both  married  at  the 
time." 

"True,"  said  Monsieur  Crapolet,  "I  forgot  that." 

We  were  nearly  out  of  the  timber,  as  it  appeared,  and 
a  few  paces  further  on  we  came  into  a  more  open  space, 
through  which  a  stream  from  the  mountains  was  flowng. 
We  had  been  gradually  ]-ising,  as  we  got  over  the  ground, 
and  now  found  ourselves  upon  the  brow  of  a  hill,  which  fell 
off  precipitously  before  us.  It  was  evident  that  we  had 
missed  the  ordinarily  travelled  patli,  for  we  saw  at  a  distance 
of  more  than  half  a  mile  below  us  on  the  river,  a  number  of 
native  women  and  children,  engaged  in  washing  and  spread- 
ing clothes.  I  am  uncertain  M-hich  would  have  made  the 
pleasantest  and  most  striking  picture — those  dark-skinned 
half-naked  native  women,  scattered  along  the  banks  or  squat- 
ting upon  the  rocks,  in  the  very  centre  of  the  swift  running 
stream,  with  tlae  -sun-light  falling  aslant  just  over  their 
heads,  and  flooding  the  opposite  hill-side  with  a  golden  radi- 
ance, leaving  their  not  ungraceful  figures  clearly  defined  in 
the  rich  deep  shade ;  engaged  in  an  occupation,  homely  if 
you  will,  but  made  dignifi<^d  and  cliarmin£j  in  such  a  visible 


A   TRAMP  IN  THE  WOODS.  77 

presence  of  scenic  graiideiir — or  ourselves  pausing  for  a  moment 
on  the  abrupt  brow  of  the  tall  acclivity,  with  the  great  old 
trees  waving  above  our  heads ;  our  foreign  animals  and  ap- 
pliances about  us,  an  oriental  grouping  displayed  amid  the 
wild  luxuriance  of  western  nature. 

"  The  question  now  arises,"  remarked  Judge  Smithers,  tak- 
ing a  bird's-eye  view  of  our  isolated  position,  "  as  to  what  we 
are  to  do  next ;  so  far,  our  young  scapegrace  of  a  guide  seems 
to  have  had  it  all  his  own  way." 
■  •.  .       "  There  appears  to  be  a  down-hill  course  before  us,"  said 
^-     the  Colonel,  "  and  the  subscriber  takes  occasion  to  say  that 
K      he  has  never  found  any  difficulty  in  that." 
^    '      Our  little  imp  of  a  guide  wasnot  at  all  disposed  to  own 
nJ     up   to    any   deficiency   on    his  ,part,    but    kept    pointing 
^     earnestly  to  the  other  side  of  the  ravine,  and  calling  out, 
o\v  "  Bueno  camino,  bueno  camino  !"      This  little  wretch  was 
certainly  the  beau-ideal  of  a  young  vagabond,  as  he  capered 
so  grotesquely  yet  airily  in  our  van,  cutting  wantonly  with 
his  long  cane-knife  at  everything  within  reach,  and  bursting 
out  every  two  or  three  minutes  into  some  wild  or  jilaintive 
snatch  of  song.     His  costume,  if  not  quite  complete,  was  yet 
partially  good  in  particulars  wherein  Thorn's  was  entirely 
deficient.     It   consisted   of   a  bruised   and    broken  hat  of 
plaited    straw,  and  a  blue  and  white   striped   calico  shirt, 
leaving   his  lower   limbs   at   full    liberty    to    perform    any 
gymnastic  flourishes  which  might  occur  to  him. 

"  Bueno  camino,  on  the  other  side  of  the  river,  is  it  ?" 
said  Colonel  Allen,  "  but  how  in  the  dragon's  name  are  we 
to  get  there,  eh  ?" 

The  boy  began  capering  along  downward  towards  where 
we  saw  the  native  women  at  work,  and  beckoned  us  to  follow. 
We  were  not  long  in  coming  to  a  kind  of  natural  stair- 
case, down  which  our  sure-footed  beasts  carried  us  with  ease, 


19  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

and  arriving  safely  on  the  fii'm  level  bank  of  the  stream,  we 
decided  upon  a  halt  for  lunch.  It  was  a  charming  spot, 
cool,  shady,  with  a  clean  sandy  floor,  and  delicious  water 
bubbling  and  flowing  alongside.  A  delightful  spot  to 
be  in,  and  easy  of  access  on  the  one  hand,  but  how  were  we 
ever  to  penetrate  the  bristling  wilderness  which  frowned 
down  upon  us  from  the  other  ? 

Lunch  over,  it  was  proposed  by  Judge  Smithers  tliat  two 
or  three  of  us,  accompanied  by  our  experienced  guide,  should 
set  out  on  a  reconnoitring  expedition  in  search  of  a  conti- 
nuation of  the  road.  For  all  the  signs  we  then  saw,  it 
looked  far  more  encouraging  for  Mr.  Vale's  "  Anaconda  line 
across  the  Isthmus,"  than  for  our  less  fleet  and  more  cum- 
bersome offspring  of  the  desert.  So  solemn  and  determined 
Avas  the  close  arrayed  front  of  forest  verdure  we  were  to 
break  in  upon,  that  we  experienced  a  presentiment  even 
before  setting  out,  to  the  effect  that  we  should  have  our 
labor  for  our  pains ;  and  accordingly  set  our  Moors  to  work 
in  unpacking  the  camels  and  pitching  the  tents  preparatory 
to  the  night's  bivouac. 

The  reconnoitring  party  consisted  of  Judge  Smithers, 
Colonel  Allen,  and  myself,  for  our  model  guide  frisked  about 
on  his  own  hook,  and  I  have  no  question  that  if  the  truth 
were  known,  we  should  find  that  the  little  villain  had  been 
all  along  diverting  himself  extremely  with  our  bewilderment. 
He  would  plunge  at  times  into  the  bushes  on  our  right  as 
we  travelled  down  the  river's  bank,  and  writhe  himself  out 
again  a  short  distance  in  advance  of  us,  with  a  delighted 
glitter  in  his  devilish,  bright  eyes,  exclaiming,  "  Camino  no 
es  bueno,"  and  again  skipping  on  ahead.  At  length  he 
seemed  to  have  actually  made  a  discovery,  for  he  waited  our 
approach  with  a  satisfied  air,  pointing  his  skinny  arm 
"owards  the  forest,  and  shouting,  "  bueno  camino."      And 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  WOODS.  79 

sure  enough,  there  was  a  bit  of  a  clearing  where  he  stood,  a 
kind  of  Spanish  mule  path — upon  which  we  judged  it 
as  well  upon  the  whole  to  enter.  It  led  through  rank  grow- 
ing thickets,  up  steep  piles,  as  it  were,  of  slippery  clay,  and 
down  suddenly  into  ugly-looking  if  not  dangerous  gullies. 
Notwithstanding  the  profusion  of  undergrowth,  there  was  no 
scarcity  of  the  larger  trees,  with  branches  and  foliage  so 
intersected  as  to  shut  out  the  sunshine  as  with  an  impenetrable 
veil.  It  seemed  from  the  little  puddles  which  we  met  at 
every  few  paces,  that  the  clayey  soil  was  of  such  toughness 
as  to  hold  water  for  a  great  length  of  time,  for  no  rain  had 
fallen  since  we  set  out.  However,  we  kept  on,  staggering, 
sliding,  climbing  over  the  ground,  beneath  this  lowering 
canopy  of  green,  more  from  a  repugnance  which  we  felt  to 
turning  back,  than  from  any  faint  hope  of  the  road  improv- 
ing sufficiently  to  warrant  our  entering  upon  it  with  the 
camels.     Our  soi-disant  guide  had  disappeared. 

There  was  some  little  amusement,  of  rather  a  doubtful 
kind  nevertheless,  to  he  derived  from  a  contemplation  of  our 
several  bespattered  persons  and  rueful  faces.  As  we  picked 
our  way  along,  stepping  into  the  holes  in  the  path  to  insure 
a  footing,  the  muddy  water  would  sometimes  spirt  upwards 
to  our  full  height,  plentifully  baptizing  us  after  the  manner 
of  this  world.  For  once  in  his  life,  Colonel  Allen,  of 
Missouri,  so  far  as  his  personal  appearance  went  at  all  events^ 
was  pretty  much  on  a  par  with  his  associates.  But  even 
then,  relentless  fate  was  preparing  a  more  thorough  bap- 
tism, which  should  restore  him  to  his  quondam  unenviable 
position. 

The  Colonel  was  the  leader  of  our  party,  and  had  now 
succeeded  in  scrambling,  somewhat  crab-like,  to  the  very 
summit  of  a  particularly  slippery  eminence.  Without  stop- 
ping to  take  breath,  he  commenced  the  descent,  and  disap- 


80  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

peared  from  our  sight  as  suddenly  as  if  the  earth  had 
swallowed  him.  The  next  instant  we  heard  a  shout,  far,  far 
below  us,  on  the  other  side,  and  the  idea  immediately 
occurred  to  us  that  the  Colonel  had  lost  his  footing,  and 
gone  to  the  bottom  by  the  run.  And  so  it  was ;  for  on  our 
reaching  the  top,  and  looking  down,  there  he  was,  sure 
enough,  buried  in  a  swamp,  with  his  head  out,  puflBng  and 
blowing  like  a  struck  poi'poise.  His  hat,  which  had  never 
been  one  of  Genin's  best,  floated  in  the  slime  near  him,  and 
he  himself,  facetious  man,  was  beating  the  mud  with  his 
freed  arms,  and  jerking  his  body  upward,  by  the  action  of 
his  legs,  for  all  the  world  like  a  boy  "  treading  water."  I 
clung  to  a  bush  at  my  side,  that  I  might  laugh  with  the 
greater  safety. 

"  This  is  the  end  of  your  down-hill  career,"  observed  the 
Judge,  parentally.     "  Stuck  in  the  mud  at  last" 

"  Confound  your  moralizing,"  roared  Allen,  with  his  mouth 
full  of  mud  and  water,  "  and  bear  a  hand  to  help  the  sub- 
scriber out  of  this  infernal  swamp." 

"  Bueno  camino,"  sung  out  a  little  squeaking  voice  from  a 
jungle  near  by,  and  our  nice  young  guide  presented  himself, 
with  an  extra  suppleness  in  his  entire  frame. 

"  You  half-grown  cub  of  a  she-dragon !"  roared  the 
Colonel  again, — "  once  put  the  subscriber  clear  of  this,  and 
he'll  fix  your  flint  for  you." 

Whether  the  boy  fully  understood  the  drift  of  the 
Colonel's  threat,  or  not,  I  cannot  say,  but  retiring  within 
the  shadow  of  the  jungle,  he  presently  reappeared  with  a 
stout  limb  of  balata,  which  he  threw  across  the  swamp,  or 
quick-7nud,  suffering  its  extremity  to  rest  upon  the  borders 
thereof,  and  again  retreated,  throwing  his  head  back  waggish- 
ly, and  kicking  up  his  bare  heels  like  a  young  colt.  It  is, 
perhaps,  needless  for  me  to  add  that  we  never  saw  him  again. 


.4   TRAMP  IN  THE  WOODS.  81 

Now  the  old  proverb,  tliat  it  is  much  easier  to  get  into  a 
scrape  than  to  get  out  of  one,  found  no  exception  in  this  par- 
ticular case ;  and  it  was  only  by  dint  of  such  gymnastic 
evolutions  as  would  be  set  down  for  caricaturing,  should  I 
endeavor  to  depict  them,  that  the  Colonel  at  last  got  himself 
astride  of  the  log,  and  began  edging  his  way  to  terra  firma. 
Oh,  what  a  laughable  plight^  he  was  in,  to  be  sure.  There 
he  stood,  hatless  and  bootless ;  his  face,  hair,  and  habili- 
ments all  of  a  color,  like  a  miller  or  coal-heaver,  but  of  a 
shade  which  I  should  describe  as  a  sort  of  cross  between 
the  two. 

"  Boots  gone  ?"  inquired  Judge  Smithers,  with  a  sympa- 
thizing air. 

"  Boots !"  retorted  the  Colonel,  holding  out  one  leg  like  a 
darkey  fiddler,  and  steadily  regarding  the  foot  thereof;  "yes, 
and  stockings  too ;  see  here.  Judge,  just  suppose  the  subscriber 
to  be  in  the  eel  business,  and  to  have  come  across  a  particu- 
larly hard  set  that  wouldn't  be  skinned  nohow,  why  he'd 
just  take  'em  along  to  one  of  these  Spanish  pantanas,  and  if 
that  wouldn't  do  their  business,  set  the  aforesaid  down  for  a 
raw  sucker !" 

"  Nonsense,  Allen,  you  know  that  you  were  never  the  pro- 
prietor of  a  pair  of  stockings.  Don't  let  yourself  down  to 
the  meanness  of  endeavoring  to  attract  symj^athy  for  the 
loss  of  property  which  you  never  possessed." 

"  It's  the  way  of  the  world.  Judge,  as  you  well  know. 
Old  Caleb  Balderstone  used  to  say,  that  a  fire  accounted  for 
all  deficiencies,  actual  and  impossible  ;  and  it's  rather  hard  if 
such  a  vile,  blasted  mud-bath  as  the  subscriber  has  just  taken, 
shouldn't  explain  some.  But  never  mind  that,  let's  see  how 
you  are  to  get  the  aforesaid  back  to  camp,  since  it's  pretty 
certain  that  you  two  will  have  to  take  turns  in  carrying  him  ; 
as  to  his  walking,  that  is  out  of  the  question." 

4* 


82  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

Here  was  the  boot  on  the  other  leg  with  a  vengeance  ! 
There  were  portions  of  the  road  back,  which  lay  over  flinty 
ground,  where  it  would  not  be  easy  for  a  person  unaccus- 
tomed to  the  exercise  to  walk  barefoot.  On  contemplating 
the  prospect,  with  this  new  light  before  us,  I  must  confess 
that  I  did  not  feel  quite  so  strongly  inclined  to  laugh.  But 
the  ever-fertile  brain  of  Judge  Smithers  was  equal  to  the 
emergency. 

*'  Just  fetch  that  stick  along  with  you,  Allen,  and  when  we 
get  to  the  bad  places,  you  will  take  the  position  thereupon 
termed,  in  military  parlance,  '  as  you  Avere,'  and  we'll  carry 
you  into  camp,  the  latest  living  personification  of  riding  on  a 
rail !" 

There  was  nothing  for  it,  under  the  circumstances,  but  to 
retrace  our  steps.  The  sun  was  almost  down,  and  deeper 
and  darker  shadows  crouched  in  every  thicket.  As  we 
travelled  backward,  Ave  were  several  times  in  danger  of  miss- 
ing our  way,  though,  thanks  to  the  elastic  surface  of  the 
clayey  ground,  we  had  more  falls  than  bruises.  When  we 
finally  got  clear  of  the  wood  altogether,  and  entered  the  open 
valley,  where  was  our  camp  and  friends,  it  seemed  like 
getting  home  again.  We  could  not  help  feeling  the  calm, 
quiet,  cloudless  repose  in  which  the  spot  seemed  to  He,  as  if 
it  were  a  reflection  of  the  clear  bright  sky,  imparting  to  oui 
liarassed  bosoms  a  portion  of  its  own  serenity.  The  large, 
round  moon  was  squandering  uj>on  every  thing  within  view, 
its  treasures  of  silver  light,  giving  to  the  dark  woods,  the 
climbing  hills,  and  the  sparkling  river,  a  rich,  mellow, 
yet  half  unreal  loveliness.  In  a  little  dot,  as  it  were,  of 
ihis  magnificent  picture  of  still  life,  were  seen  the  white 
tents  and  moving  figures  of  our  camp,  with  a  curling  wreath 
of  smoke  ascending  from  the  rear  of  a  broad,  black 
curtain. 


A  TRAMP  IN  THE  WOODS.  83 

A  few  momenls  more,  ;uk1  we  were  in  the  inidst  of  this 
picturesque  group.  Oh,  such  side-splitting  shouts  of  wel- 
come and  laughter,  whon  we  unceremoniously  spilt  the  mud- 
coated  Colonel  from  his  novel  hand-barrow. 


84  LIFE  0:S  THE  ISTHMUS. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


AFTER    DINNER. 


DID  the  reader  infer,  from  what  lias  been  said,  that  Mon- 
sieur Crapolet  was  at  all  overcome  by  liquor,  or  trans- 
ported out  of  his  ordinary  state  on  this  occasion  ?  If  so,  the 
writer  must  plead  guilty  to  having  led  him  into  error,  for  J 
jiow  distinctly  recollect,  that  on  our  return  to  camp  the 
chief  of  the  culinary  department  was  fulfilling  his  duties 
with  the  most  scrupulous  and  clear-headed  exactitude. 

Aiid  in  due  time  appeared  Thom,  his  shiny  black 
shoulders,  chest,  and  arms,  streaked  with  lines  of  rolling  per- 
spiration, bearing  various  steaming  and  truly  savory  dishes 
for  dinner.  This  Thom  of  ours  had  a  way  of  rolling  up  the 
whites  of  his  eyes,  that  was  quite  startling,  and  seen  in  the 
moonlight,  curiously  impressive.  If  it  be  true,  as  suggested 
by  a  recent  philosophic  writer,  that  a  negro  is  "  kind  of  cross 
between  a  monkey  and  a  man,"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  this 
Thom  did  feel  at  times  some  rather  quaint  twinges,  at  his 
peculiar  way  of  introducing  the  two  races.  But  he  was  a 
taciturn  old  fellow,  who  loved  his  solitary  pipe  better  than 
anything  else,  and  whenever  I  mentioned  ray  suspicions  to 
him,  he  would  cut  me  short  by  a  most  emphatic  "  Ah-wah  !" 
uttered  in  a  querulous,  half  angry  tone,  as  much  as  to  say 
"  now  don't  bother  me — get  out !" 

Dinner  was  over,  and  such  a  dinner ! — A  few  days  after- 
wards, when  we  were  going  up  Ghagres  river,  and  I  saw  a 


■  \y 

AFTER  DINNER.  85 

great,    awful,    lazy,    mud-brown     alligator,     lying    out    so 
patriarclially  under  the  immensity  of  over-hanging  foliage^ 
the  uncouth    impersonation,  as  it  were,  of  the  pestiferous 
vapors   and  noisome   atmospheric  ingredients  of  that  fatiiV 
river,  it  seemed  to  me,  rather  a  quaint  fancy  to  be  sure,  but 
he  did  actually  bring  to  mind,  so  stately  and  lonely  as  he 
was,  the  image  of  old  David  sitting  between  the  gates,  and 
inquiring  for  his  progeny.     "  Have  you  met  my  young  alli- 
gators ?"  he  seemed  to  say,  and  certain  compunctious  gnawings 
of  the  intestines  made  answer,  "  We  have  seen  and  eat  them." 
But  at  any  rate  dinner  was  over,  and  "  what  was  eat  yvnn 
eat,  would  ft   were  worthier."      We  were  lying  about  iu 
groups,    smoking     of    course — everybody    smokes    on    the 
Isthmus.     It  was  a  bright,  balmy,  mellow  evening,  sucli  as 
is  only  seen  within  the  Tropics.      There  was  a  peculiar  soft- 
ness in  the  air  that  was  delightfully  grateful  to  our  weary 
frames,  bathing  us,  as  it  were,  in  a  delicious  vapor.     It  was 
one   of  those    evenings   when   the  gay  greenery  of  earth, 
entwined  and  festooned  in  every  possible  shape  of  fantastic 
beauty   though    it  be,    is  forgotten  in  the  sublime  appre- 
ciation of  siderial  beauty ;  when  every  flitting  of  the  sum- 
mer wind  awakens  harmonious  responses  in   the   topmost 
boughs    of   the    tall    trees ;    when   the    round    moon  is  a 
well  remembered  friend,   speaking  to  us  silently  of  early 
innocent  pulsations ;  when  the  veiy  birds,  penetrated  by  the     j 
still  loveliness  of  the  hour,  "  murmur  in  their  dreams  of  the    } 
dim  sweetness  fitfully  ;"  when  earth  is  remembered  only  as  a    • 
land  of  calm  and  holy  joys,  and  heaven  itself  seems  not  so    -; 
very  far  away  ;    when  the  drifting  fleecy  clouds  seem  but    I 
the  white-robed  spirits  of  our  young  departed  comrades,    ^ 
beckoning  us  thitherward  ;  when  we  feel  ourselves  so  trans-     ] 
figured  by  the  genius  of    the  hour  that  we  only  wonder     \ 
why  our  wings  are  wanting  and  we  cannot  follow  them. 


86  LIFE  ON   THE  ISTHMUS. 

I  remember  having  left  our  party  for  a  moment's  solitary 
stroll.  Such  times  never  fail  to  call  up  memories  of  all  the 
old  times  that  had  any  features  in  common,  and  now  I  was 
reviewing  specially  some  of  our  nights  upon  the  desert,  where 
the  same  soft  sky  and  the  same  pale  moon  was  over  us,  but 
how  diflferent  the  surroundings ;  there  nature  was  clad  in 
such  severe,  almost  bald  simplicity  ;  there  she  wore  such 
eternal  calmness  on  her  oriental  front,  as  if  there  were  no 
deeds  within  her  placid  bosom  to  hide  from  the  pure  gaze 
of  those  fair  stars  above  ;  and  here  were  such  turbulent  and 
luxurious  forms  of  beauty.  How  the  whole  earth  throbbed 
and  heaved  with  the  fresh  vigor  of  its  vegetable  life,  and 
crowded  out  its  progeny  of  green  things  into  the  upper  air, 
like  a  great  army.  Its  tangled  and  almost  impenetrable  front, 
yet  wrought  into  shapes  of  strange  beauty  in  all  its  thou- 
sand lines,  the  home  and  dwelling-place  of  serpents,  wild 
beasts,  and  gay-plumaged  birds,  was  typical  in  its  massive 
headlong  growth  of  that  people  who  were  bearing  empire  on 
their  rough  shoulders  away  from  the  sluggish  patriarchal 
East. 

Musing  somewhat  in  this  wise,  I  had  come  suddenly  upon 
a  little  open  space  where  the  moonhght  was  falling  in 
between  the  branches  in  spray-like  gushes.  I  threw  myself 
upon  the  ground,  and  was  startled  at  hearing  a  voice  close 
behind  me — it  was  Arthur  Orrington,  at  prayer. 

He  was  praying  that  he  might  feel  the  proper  solemnity 
of  the  act,  and  bring  himself  into  a  mood  when  he  woidd 
feel  it  no  blasphemy  to  ask  communion  with  the  Lord ;  and 
he  went  on  to  pray  that  in  the  bitterness  of  self-denial,  he 
might  find  strength  to  gain  the  mastery  over  a  great  sin 
that  was  growing  upon  him,  that  he  might  realize 
that  a  good  and  great  deed  was  an  object  of  real  and 
eternal  beauty,  God's  thought  in  action  ;  and  even  more 


AFTER  DIi\NEll.  87 

worthy  to  be  loved  and  coveted  than  his  thought  mariitest 
in  forms  of  beauty,  and  that  he  niiglit,  in  <tinie,  become 
impregnated  with  a  jiortion  of  that  goodness  even,  which  is 
God,  and  so  begin  to  grow  for  ever  into  his  likeness.  Then 
as  I  was  stealing  off,  for  the  wonderful  solemnity  of  his 
thoughts  and  language  overpowered  me,  I  heard  him 
thanking  God  for  those  words  of  Christ,  when  he  said  that 
the  highest  evidence  of  attachment  a  man  could  show  to  a 
friend,  was  to  lay  down  his  life  for  him. 

Prayer !  it  is  a  sacred  and  hallowed  thing.  It  is  the 
highest,  most  blessed  privilege  vouchsafed  to  mortal  man. 
It  is  the  one  thing  which  more  than  all  other  things  proves 
hira  to  be  indeed  but  little  lower  than  the  angels,  the  one 
God-recognised  link  connecting  the  mortal  with  the  immortal. 
So  long  as  man  can  find  the  heart  to  pray  he  is  not  lost. 
But  prayer  is  too  holy  a  thing  to  be  made  light  or  common 
of.  It  seems  to  me  that  not  often  in  man's  life  should  he 
dare  to  exercise  that  awful  prerogative  in  its  fullest  sense ; 
not  but  that  his  life  should  be  one  constant  prayer  of  praise 
and  gratitude,  but  shown  in  his  life,  and  not  in  words.  Yet 
in  times  of  great  peril  how  soothing,  how  ennobling  to  be 
able  to.  look  up  and  say,  "  God  help  us  !"  and  after  a 
miraculous  escape,  what  emotion  so  exquisite  as  that  which 
accompanies  the  heart- uttered,  "  thank  God  !"  as  it  goes  on 
wings  of  gratitude  straight  to  the  eternal  throne.  These  are 
the  prayers  which  work  out  a  man's  salvation. 

Earnestness  and  sincerity  always  command  respect,  what- 
ever may  be  the  circumstances  under  which  we  behold  their  • 
development.  No  matter  how  absurd  or  visionary  may  be 
a  man's  aim  in  our  estimation,  yet  if  we  see  him  firm,  straight- 
forward, and  persevering,  and  feel,  besides,  tliat  he  is  really 
in  earnest,  we  involuntarily  fall  back  to  let  him  pass,  and 
look  after  him  with  a  (.ertain  sentiment  of  admiration,  which 


88  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

we  are  hardly  willing  to  acknowledge  to  ourselves.  And  if 
so  be  his  course  conflicts  not  with  our  own,  but  leads  above 
it,  and  in  its  brilliancy  reflects  a  certain  light  upon  ours, 
then  we  breathe  blessings  upon  the  path  which  blinds  and 
dazzles  us.  I  have  done  no  justice  to  the  prayer  of  Arthur 
Orriugton  in  the  woods.  The  language  in  which  his  thoughts 
were  clothed  was  as  pure  and  grand  as  they.  Surrounded 
as  I  had  been  for  so  long  by  those  whose  struggle  was  for 
the  forms  of  life,  this  expression  of  a  soul  which  asked  for 
something  more,  even  for  the  true  essence  of  existence,  over- 
came me  with  a  profound  solemnity.  The  great  reality  of 
this  man's  purpose  made  me  feel  as  if  the  rest  of  us  were 
chasing  shadows.  I  think  I  must  have  carried  my  impres- 
sions pretty  plainly  on  my  countenance,  for  when  I  returned 
to  camp.  Colonel  Allen,  who  was  the  first  to  observe  me, 
called  out  defiantly  that  "  the  subscriber  was  ready  to  bet 
the  drinks  for  the  crowd,  that  the  new-comer  had  met  a 
ghost." 

"  Speaking  of  ghosts,"  said  Tom,  ''  what  a  ghostly  place 
the  old  fort  at  Chagres  is  !" 

"  Aint  it  ?"  said  the  Colonel  abstractedly. 
"  But  have  you  really  seen  a  ghost  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Wal- 
lack,  who  took  great  interest  in  things  supernatural. 
"No,"  said  I. 

"Then,"  observed  Judge  Smithers,  "Allen  has  lost  the 
drinks." 

"Agreed,"  said  Allen.  "  And  speaking  of  the  old  fort  and 
drinks  in  connexion,  the  subscriber  takes  occasion  to  state 
to  the  crowd  that  he  is  the  proprietor  of  a  most  extraordina- 
rily cobweby  bottle,  found  by  the  aforesaid  while  on  a 
voyage  of  discovery  in  said  fort,  which  cobweby  bottle  is  sup- 
posed to  contain  some  excellent  old  Cognac,  something  pro- 
bably prior  to  the  time  of  Otard." 


AFTER  DINNER.  89 

"  I  suggest  that  the  subscriber  produces  the  same  without 
further  prelude,"  said  Tom. 

"Now  then,  Allen,"  observed  the  Judge,  "here  is  a  chance 
to  clear  up  your  character  somewhat.  If  this  little  story  of 
the  bottle  should  turn  out  to  be  true,  it  will  be  a  perfect 
God-send  to  you,  and  like  charity,  cover  a  multitude  of  lies. 
Produce  the  Cognac." 

"  But  that  State  House  story — "  began  Allen, 

"  We  will  have  another  time,"  continued  the  Judge  ;  "  and 
now  for  the  brandy," 

Upon  this,  "  the  subscriber  "  began  to  stir  his  stumps,  and 
proceeded  towards  Thorn's  apartment,  as  if  there  was  really  a 
bottle  of  brandy  to  be  brought  forth.  It  seemed  at  any  rate 
that  he  had  got  to  the  right  shop,  in  one  sense,  for  throwing 
up  his  hands  in  consternation,  as  he  looked  behind  the  black 
curtain,  he  uttered  these  memorable  words  — 

"The  subscriber, takes  occasion  to  be  astonished." 

Then  plunging  desperately  from  our  sight,  he  presently  re- 
appeared, bearing  in  his  clutches  the  unfortunate  Monsieur 
Crapolet,  Avho  was  presented  to  us  as  a  culprit  taken  in  the 
act  of  drawing  the  cork  from  Allen's  cobweby  bottle.  Poor 
Crapolet !  he  had  the  corkscrew  inserted  just  ready  for  a  pull, 
and  I  really  believe  the  lachrymose  lover  was  very  thirsty, 
for  he  eyed  the  bottle  longingly,  while  Colonel  Allen  haran- 
gued him  as  follows  : — 

"  Miserable  Frenchman,  you  are  truly  worthy  to  be  ranked 
with  the  man  spoken  of  in  Scripture." 

"Where?"  inquired  Judge  Smithers. 

"  In  Scripture,"  said  Allen  triumphantly,  "  spoken  of  in 
Scripture,  of  whom  Solomon  in  his  wisdom  said,  '  thou  art 
the  man.' " 

"Let  me  see"  said  the  Judge,  "  what  was  the  beginning 
of  that  storv  1" 


90  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS 

"The  subscriber  will  be  proud  to  enlighten  you  on  the 
subject.      A  rich  man  once  gave  a  great  dinner." 

"  Ah,  yes,  who  was  it  ?" 

"  I  don't  exactl)^  recollect  that  part  of  it,"  said  Allen,  "  but 
I  think  it  was  Solomon — if  not — Saul." 

"  But  they  were  not  contemporaries." 

"  We  won't  argue  that  point,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  Well,  go  on,"  said  the  Judge. 

"This  man  then — " 

"  Who  «" 

"  Saul — this  man  Saul,  had  plenty  of  everything  for  din- 
ner: Mulligatawny  soup,  boiled  cod-fish,  oyster  sauce — roast 
beef,  goose,  turkey,  venison,  wild  ducks,  lobster  salad,  chicken 
fixens,  in  fact  a  good  dinner." 

"  What  book  do  you  find  that  recorded  in,  Allen  ?" 

"  What  book  ?  Scripture.  Well,  he  had  everything,  this 
old  King  Solomon,  everything  but  mutton.  He  would  not 
have  noticed  this,  if  it  had  not  ha'  been  for  an  old  chap,  a 
particular  friend  of  his,  named  Jeroboam,  who  observed  on 
taking  a  glass  of  port  with  the  King,  that  such  port  wouldn't 
be  a  bad  accompaniment  for  boiled  mutton  and  caper  sauce." 

"  My  impression  is,"  said  Tom,  "  that  it  was  roast  mutton 
that  was  called  for." 

"  We  wont  argue  that  point,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  so  he  calls 
one  of  his  men — John,  says  he," — 

"Never  mind  the  rest  of  the  story,"  said  Judge  Sraithers, 
"  there  is  such  a  passage  in  the  Bible  as, '  Thou  art  the  man,' 
and  from  your  knowing  that,  I  thought  it  possible  that  you 
might  have  read  something  in  the  book  when  young." 

"  Parbleu,  he  got  my  measure  that  time,  sur  la  gauche," 
said  Monsieur  Crapolet,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "for  cer- 
tainly, I  furnished  an  excellent  dish  of  mutton  three  times  a 
week." 


AFTER  DINNER.  91 

"  Revenons  a  nos  moutons,"  said  Torn,  "  to  the  bottle." 
"To  the  bottle,"  repeated  Allen,  applying  himself  to 
withdrawing  the  cork.  In  this  department  of  industry,  the 
dilapidated  colonel  was  unrivalled,  extracting  the  cork,  and 
holding  a  glass  in  his  left  hand,  and  the  bottle  in  his 
right,  he  proceeded,  as  he  thought,  to  turn  out  the  liquor. 

"  But  pleasures  are  like  poppies  spread, 
You  seize  the  flower — its  bloom  is  shed." 

And  so  although  "  the  subscriber"  held  the  bottle  quite 
correctly  in  a  horizontal  position,  nothing  issued  therefrom. 

"Come  come,  Allen,"  said  Judge  Smithers  jocosely, 
"  you've  gone  through  the  motions  very  well,  and  we'll  let 
you  off  with  that." 

"  But  the  subscriber  protests — "  began  Allen,  quite  fiercely. 

"  It  was  only  some  kind  of  light  wine,  very  likely,"  said 
Tom  soothingly. 

"  But  there  is  yet  something  in  the  bottle,"  observed  the 
Major,  taking  it  out  of  the  hands  of  Allen,  who  remained 
quite  aghast  at  the  very  unpleasant  termination  of  the 
affair. 

"And  it  is  a  roll  of  manuscript,"  continued  the  Major, 
who  had  now  broken  the  bottle,  and  produced  from  among 
the  fragments  a  sealed  package,  which  certainly  bore  exter- 
nal evidence  of  being  manuscript. 

"  Ah  !"  said  Allen,  coming  forward  with  a  brightened  air, 
"  who  knows  but  this  is  the  identical  bottle  which  Columbus 
threw  overboard  the  night  he  discovered  America  I" 

"  Which  was  washed  up  into  the  old  fort  by  some  un- 
usual freak  of  the  waves,"  suggested  Judge  Smithers;  "  but 
there  are  records  which  allude  to  the  article  thrown  over- 
board by  Columbus  on  a  certain  occasion  as  a  keg,  and  not 
a  bottle." 


92  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"  We  wont  argue  that  point,"  said  Allen,  "  but  will  have 
the  paper  read,  and  the  subscriber  would  suggest  that  Mr. 
Eddington  read  the  document  aloud." 

"  If  you  mean  me,"  said  Tom,  "  and  it  is  the  general 
desire — I  shall  be  most  happy  to  officiate." 

"  What  is  the  title  of  it,  Tom  ?"  inquired  somebody. 

"  It  don't  appear  to  have  any,"  said  Tom,  "  but  begins 
quite  abruptly." 

"  I  hope  it's  funny,"  said  somebody. 

"The  subscriber  stands  ready  to  bet  the  drinks  it  aiot," 
said  Colonel  Allen. 

"Of  course  it  isn't,"  said  Judge  Sraithers,  "nobody  would 
think  of  sealing  anything  funny  up  tight,  and  putting  it 
into  a  bottle." 

"  Well  then,"  said  Allen  doggedly,  "  the  subscriber  will 
bet  the  drinks  it  is." 

"  But  you  hav'n't  paid  your  last  bet.  Colonel,"  said  Judge 
Smithers. 

"  We  wont  argue  that  point,"  said  Colonel  Allen  ;  "  read 
on,  Tom." 

Whereupon  Tom  proceeded  to  read  what  the  reader  of 
this  narrative  will  iind  in  the  next  chapter. 


THE  BOTTLE  MANUSCRIPT  93 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    BOTTLE    MANUSCRIPT. 

GOLD,  what  a  strange  tiling  it  is  !  I  do  verily  believe 
that  it  is  the  concentrated,  solid  essence  of  the  world's 
lost  sunshine. 

What  power  does  it  not  possess  ? 

Power — it  needed  not  a  voice  from  the  depths  of  another 
world  to  tell  us  "  to  be  weak  is  to  be  miserable."  This  h 
one  of  the  eternal  laws  of  being,  and  it  is  only  the  fool  who 
wilfully  sets  it  at  defiance. 

To  be  powerful,  on  the  other  band,  is  to  be  happy;  and 
gold  is  power.     Knowledge  is  not — virtue  is  not — gold  is  ! 

And  now  gold  is  mine  ! 

Yes,  mine ;  and  lies  here  within  reach  of  my  arm,  as 
silent  and  clod-like,  in  these  hundred  mouldering  and  black 
old  kegs,  as  if  it  were  the  merest  bits  of  yellow  metal,  instead 
of  a  fresh  and  rosy  god,  with  an  arm  whose  beck  should 
bring  greatness  and  glory,  like  willing  slaves,  to  its  side; 
and  a  voice  seductive  as  a  siren's,  winning  within  its  charmed 
circle,  all  intoxicating  essences  of  life,  love,  beauty,  flattery. 

Mine,  with  a  certain  condition,  it  is  true, — a  condition 
made  by  the  lean,  sallow,  mildewed  old  keeper,  who  shoved 
me  into  this  glorious  fortune — that  I  am  to  remain  here 
without  communication  with  the  world  for  twelve  months ; 
and  then  to  go  forth  master  and  owner  of  it  all — not  all  the 


94  LIFE  OIS  THE  ISTHMUS. 

world  literally — but  yet  in  fact,  since  being  owner  of  this 
gold  will  make  me  master  and  owner  of  all  the  best  of  it. 

A  liard  condition  truly  !  The  shrivelled  hermit  is  little  of 
a  man  to  have  supposed  it  possible,  that  there  could  have 
been  any  hesitation  on  my  part,  in  complying  with  his  pro- 
posal. As  if  I  hadn't  had  good  reason  to  know  its  terrible — 
its  ineffable  Avorth. 

As  if  1  hadn't  for  so  many  years  been  plodding  along  the 
world's  miry  paths,  looking  downwards  mostly,  that  I  might 
not  see  and  envy  the  gorgeous  robes,  the  buoyant  bearing, 
the  proud,  self-sustained,  triumphant  looks  ;  and  with  ray 
ears  shut,  that  I  might  not  hear  the  rattling  din  of  the 
gallant,  merrily  bedecked  equipages  of  those  favored  mor- 
tals, who  had  what  T  had  not — gold. 

As  if  the  want  of  it  had  not  made  me  come  to  doubt  even 
my  right  to  a  j)lace  in  a  world  where  it  was  the  one  good 
and  needful  thing. 

As  if  I  had  not  been  a  very  leper,  as  it  were,  in  the  social 
world,  and  seen  my  old  friends  and  associates  shrink  back 
at  my  approach,  drawing  their  garments  closer  about  them, 
»nd  whispering  to  one  another,  "  unclean,  unclean  !"  and  all 
for  the  want  of  it. 

As  if  I,  myself,  hadn't  at  times  slunk  away,  anc) 
getting  to  a  secret  place,  alone  with  my  Maker,  sat  coolly 
down  to  ask  him  why  it  was  that  he  had  made  me,  and 
placed  me  in  a  world  where  gold  was  (nerything,  and 
without  which  there  was  nothing — and  yet  given  me  none 
of  it. 

As  if  truth  and  bravery,  and  love  and  honor,  had  not 
become  to  me  as  mere  stiff,  cold  corpses,  except  as  the 
smiles  of  this  sunny  god  shed  life  and  beauty  over  them. 

As  if — pshaw  I 

I  remember  once  being  in  the  principal  street  of  a  great 


THE  BOTTLE  MANUSCRIPT.  95 

city.  It  seemed  to  lu^  like  a  holiday  ;  everybody  was 
moving  rapidly  along,  talking,  laughing,  and  to  the  first 
glance  of  a  superficial  eye,  appeared  gay  and  happy.  Men, 
women,  and  children  were  freshly  and  tastefully  habited, 
and  between  these  living  lines  of  pleasant  faces  and  graceful 
forms,  horses  and  vehicles,  proudly  caparisoned,  or  glistening 
like  polished  mirrors  of  many  brilliant  hues,  were  rattling  to 
and  fro,  exciting  by  their  gallant  action  a  livelier  heat  in 
the  general  pulsation.  The  shop  windows,  with  their  large 
clear  panes,  were  rich  and  attractive  in  all  elegant  and 
costly  fabrics.  In  the  brilliancy  of  the  tout  ensemble  of  the 
scene,  I  quite  forgot  that  the  real  proprietors  of  its  glitter 
and  magnificence  were  but  a  few,  and  that  the  many  saw  it 
but  with  blight  and  bitterness  of  heart,  hating  themselves 
for  the  very  envy  which  it  excited.  I  revelled  and  basked 
in  its  serene  brightness,  and  felt  glad  in  being  a  part  of  such 
a  world. 

But  the  reaction  came  when  I  looked  at  the  separate  parts 
of  which  the  whole  was  composed. 

A  man  was  walking  directly  before  me,  leading  by  the 
hand  a  little  girl.  The  man  was  poorly  dressed,  seedy,  pale, 
liaggard,  and  the  little  girl  was  likewise  poorly  clad,  but  with 
locks  of  dark  wavy  hair,  in  which  delicate  threads  of  sun- 
shine seemed  to  mingle  ;  a  full  fresh  happy  face,  the  pure 
good  eye  of  a  young  angel  on  God's  errand,  and  a  form  of 
light  and  beauty,  "  that  might  have  walked  unchallenged 
through  the  skies." 

It  was  natural  that  all  the  rich  and  beautiful  things 
of  earth  should  be  hers — that  she  should  have  but  to  will, 
and  thev  should  fall  about  her  like  a  fitting  vesture,  which 
slie  would  wear  with  the  unconscious  grace  and  dignity  of 
the  old  divinity  of  right.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  theliighest 
possible  use  to  which  all  the  best  and  most  beautiful  of  this 


Of.  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

world's  possessions  could  be  put,  would  be  to  lie  down  at 
her  feet  and  ask  in  winningest  tones  to  be  thought  beautiful 
by  her.  Oh,  w'ith  what  a  sudden  wrench  was  this  delicious 
idea  torn  from  my  mind !  For  to  realize  that  anything 
could  be  wanting  to  gratify  her  pure  and  child-like  wishes, 
was  to  feel  that  this  world  was  all  miserably  wrong,  and 
that  the  face  of  mother  nature,  and  the  not  less  divine 
countenance  of  her  best  beloved.  Art,  were  but  false  and  vain. 

"  Papa,"  said  stie,  letting  her  words  fall  liquidly  and 
clearly,  as  if  they  were  indeed  little  globules  of  sound,  float- 
ing outward  and  upward  from  her  soul,  and  alive  with 
some  of  its  own  pure  essence,  "  how  swiftly  and  grandly  the 
carriages  go  by,  the  horses  seem  to  have  hidden  wings. 
Oh,  I  would  so  like  to  ride." 

The  father  scowled — a  scowl  of  black,  fiendish  malignity, 
that  cast  a  horrible  shadow  over  the  wide  street,  and 
fell  with  a  deep  plunge  into  my  soul  like  a  ball  of  ice.  The 
child  did  not  see  it,  but  went  trij^ping  on,  in  a  circle  of  light 
that  was  brigliter  and  better  than  the  sun's,  because  it 
reflected  outward  from  lier  own  heart. 

Next  they  paused  a  moment  to  look  into  a  shop  window, 
where  costly  designs  in  gold  and  silver  were  displayed. 

"  See,  papa,  that  beautiful  little  silver  castle,"  said  the 
child  again,  "  I  should  like  it  for  my  wooden  soldiers  ;"  and 
receiving  no  response,  she  added  quickly,  as  if  in  divination 
of  the  reason,  "  but  I  can't  have  it,  you  know,  because 
it  costs  more  money  than  you  liave  got,  and  so  I  do  not 
really  want  it,  dear  papa." 

And  then  because  he  made  no  answer  to  her  childish 
])rattle,  but  hurried  her  silently  away  with  him,  then  I  hated 
liim,  and  cursed  liim  heartily  for  a  mean  despicable  thing. 
I  had  no  pity  for  his  broken  spirit,  his  wasted  manhood,  his 
lost    aims   of  life,    1    only  saw  that   he  was   weak,   where 


THE  BOTTLE  MANUSCRIPT.  97 

he  should  have  been  most  strong,  and  in  my  stunned  misery, 
I  uttered  a  silent  but  earnest  request  that  God  would  give 
me  death,  and  after  that  the  agonies  of  hell,  rather  than 
tliat  I  should  ever  be  the  means  of  denying  to  youth 
the  enjoyment  which  is  its  eternal  heritage. 

How  often  since  has  the  vision  of  that  little  girl  with  her 
great  soul-lit  eyes  come  up  and  mingled  with  my  dreams  ! 
What,  if  through  her  own  poverty  and  the  machinations  of 
the  rich  she  went  astray  in  after  years,  and  so  lost  that 
heaven  which  was  her  birthright  ?  Yes,  and  what  if  there 
should  be  no  other  and  better  world  than  this,  and  no  God 
anywhere  but — gold  ! 

"  Here  is  a  break  in  the  manuscript,"  observed  Tom,  look- 
ing up  from  the  papers,  "  and  when  it  continues  the  hand- 
writing is  somewhat  changed." 

"  As  if  the  ink  had  thickened  by  exposure  in  that 
devilish  hole,"  suggested  the  Judge,  looking  over  the  reader's 
ehonlder. 

"  Never  mind  ;  go  on,  Tom." 

And  Tom  went  on  to  read. 

What  a  magnificent  position  is  this  of  mine  !  I  am 
overlooking  the  bustle  and  ridiculous  activity  of  my  fellows 
in  their  heated  search  for  what  I  have  only  to  lie  back 
awhile,  and  then  coolly  take  possession  of.  It  is  true  that 
my  window  has  a  villanous  grate  over  it,  and  if  it  hadn't, 
there  is  little  probabiHty  that  I  should  be  in  a  hurry  to  part 
company  with  these  old  kegs,  and  take  a  precipitous  plunge 
from  an  elevation  of  several  hundred  feet  into  the  Chagres 
river,  or  upon  the  sharp-pointed  rocks  along  its  margin. 
But  it  is,  nevertheless,  very  soothing — tickling,  I  think,  is  the 
better  expression,  tx:>  watch  from  thence  the  crowd  as  they 
land,  and  afterward  go  up  river,  and  again  to  see  as  great  a 
crowd  returning,  wayworn,  sick,  and  after  all  with  but  the 


9S  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

merest  handful  of  what  is  piled  in  great  masses  by  my 
side. 

The  only  idea  that  troubles  me  at  all  is  that  I  am  getting 
it  too  easy,  and  shall  consequently  not  appreciate  it  as  I 
ought ;  tv.elve  months,  how  quick  they  will  roll  aw^ay  in 
pleasant  anticipations  ! 

"Is  there  much  more  of  it f  asked  Colonel  Allen,  who 
held  a  pack  of  cards  in  his  hands,  upon  which  he  was,  as  it 
seemed  unconsciously,  performing  some  curious  mechanical 
operations  with  a  kind  of  double-headed  scraper,  such  as 
changing  at  a  single  rasp  trays  into  aces,  and  villanous 
jacks  into  very  respectable  queens,  simply  by  taking  off  their 
caps. 

"  Not  a  great  deal,"  said  Tom,  drawing  attention  to  the 
Colonel's  innocent  amusement,  by  a  wink,  and  reading  on. 

Last  night  it  was  raining  heavily  ;  I  collected  some  bits 
of  wood  and  fragments  of  hoops,  that  were  scattered  about 
the  floor  of  my  cell,  or  rather  room,  and  built  me  a  nice 
little  fire.  It  was  very  cheery.  As  I  sat  rubbing  my  hands 
over  the  blaze,  I  could  not  refrain  from  chuckling  over  my 
fortunate  lot,  in  looking  forward  to  the  time  when  I  would 
have  a  hearthside  of  my  own,  and  the  gold  which  should 
buy  all  the  appliances  to  make  it  so  very  cosy  and  comfort- 
able. Long  after  it  had  all  burned  out,  and  I  was  sleeping 
soundly  on  my  blanket  stretched  upon  the  kegs,  I  was 
awakened  by  a  distant  .shouting  ;  I  got  up,  and  there  was  a 
broad  glare  of  light  dashing  into  my  chamber.  It  came 
from  the  American  side  of  the  river,  where  a  house  was  on 
fire,  and  by  its  flashing  gleams  I  could  see  the  hurried  and 
anxious  forms  of  men,  some  of  whom  were  being  made  beg- 
gars by  its  fitful  freaks.     It  was  emblematic  of  my  own  gold. 

Gold,  thought  I  to  myself,  it  is  like  the  yellow  flame,  so 
quiet  and  helpful  a  servant,  so  kind  and  companionable  a 


THE  BOTTLE  MANUSCRIPT.  99 

friend,  but  when  roused  and  bending  its  energies  for  evil 
•what  a  very  terrible  demon  it  is  ! 

Well,  let  it  be  a  demon  ;  let  it  work  its  freaks  and  its 
torments,  I  have  seen  poverty  do  worse. 

I  was  once  riding  in  a  rail-car  on  a  long  route ;  amongst 
other  passengers  I  noticed  a  young  woman  enter  with  an 
infant  in  her  arms.  I  did  not  particularly  notice  the  young 
woman  at  first,  but  I  could  not  help  observing  the  child,  and 
thinking  to  myself  how  like  a  little  cherub  it  was.  It  was  a 
boy.  I  knew  that  at  once,  from  its  fearless  smile  and  self- 
relying  air.  But  bye  and  bye  I  also  noticed  that  the  mother 
— it  was  easy  enough  to  make  out  that  she  tvas  the  mother — 
looked  strangely  at  her  fellow,  travellers,  almost  glaring  at 
them  with  meaningless  (to  me,  at  any  rate)  bright  eyes ; 
and  I  further  observed,  for  now  I  began  to  watch  her 
curiously,  that  her  expression  changed  most  vividly  and, 
earnestly  as  she  looked  into  her  little  one's  face  and  watched 
its  happy  triumphant  aspect.  It  was  as  if  she  were  turning 
away  from  a  broad  bleak  desert,  or  a  wide,  wide  dreary  sea, 
to  a  little  sunny  spot  of  earth  that  was  her  home  ;  but  the 
love  that  shot  as  it  were  from  her  eyes  had  in  it  a  glitter  so 
deep  and  dazzling,  that  it  impressed  me  with  a  strange  sensa- 
tion bordering  even  upon  terror.  There  was  a  small  private 
room  in  the  car  where  Ave  were  riding,  and  with  a  shrinking 
glance  at  the  rest  of  the  company  she  withdrevv'  thither, 
clinging  passionately  to  her  feeble  little  charge  ;  I  remember 
that  a  quaint  sort  of  thought  came  to  me  as  she  retired  from 
our  observation  ;  what  if  that  babe  should  die  ?  the  tiny 
hillock  over  its  bones  would  be  to  that  dreaming  mother  a 
mountain  which  she  could  never  pass,  and  the  great  world 
would  never  be  tenanted  by  her  again. 

Well,  we  rode  along,  and  when  we  arrived  at  our  jour- 
ney's end,  I  had   forgotten   all   about  the  mother  and  her 


100  LIFE  OA'  THE  ISTHMUS. 

babe,  but  as  I  was  leaving  the  car,  the  door  of  the  private 
room  suddenly  opened  and  the  mother  came  forth,  alone. 
I  watched  her  a  moment  to  see  her  go  back  for  her  child,  but 
she  kept  steadily  on  towards  the  steps  of  the  car  preparatory 
to  getting  out. 

"  Madam,"  said  I,  accosting  her,  "  you  have  left  your 
babe  behind." 

"  Yes,"  said  she  coolly,  "  he  is  many  miles  behind  us. 
See  here.  My  little  boy  was  happy  to-day  for  a  moment,  and 
was  dead  before  the  fever  flush  passed  oft'.  I  did  it.  I  was  com- 
ing here,  you  see,  to  a  new  place  without  money  or  friends  ; 
coming  to  continue  my  old  life  of  sin  and  wretchedness — a 
life  of  which  my  boy  was  as  yet  utterly  unconscious — so 
when  we  were  passing  an  open  spot  in  the  woods  up  which 
some  birds  were  idly  fanning  themselves  along,  and  he  was 
twittering  and  beating  his  little  arms  in  very  sympathy,  then 
I  seized  suddenly  on  all  the  misery  and  desperation  of 
years,  and  compressing  it  to  a  little  circle  within  my  hands, 
tightened  it  about  his  tender  neck  and  strangled  him  thus, 
and  then  threw  him  after  the  birds  into  the  woods  ;  and-there 
he  is  sleeping  for  ever  without  ever  having  had  to  taste  one 
drop  of  the  agony  which  is  my  daily  drink.  Now  let  thera 
do  with  me  what  they  will,  I  have  conquered  my  last  weak- 
ness— I  lost  heaven  long  ago — what  riglit  have  I  to  hanker 
after  one  of  its  holiest  joys  ?" 

This  was  another  terrible  mystery  to  me  in  God's  provi- 
dence. 

"  Here  is  another  break  in  the  manuscript,  indicated  by 
several  lines  of  asterisks,"  said  Tom,  pausing  in  his  reading. 

"  From  which  we  are  left  to  infer,"  observed  Judge 
Smithers,  "  that  the  author  might  have  given  us  some  better 
thoughts  yet,  if  he  would  but  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
pen  his  inspiration," 


THE  BOTTLE  MANUSCRIPT.  101 

"  Pray  go  on,"  said  Colonel  Allen. 

And  Tom  went  on. 

I  am  half-sick  to-day,  and  quite  down-hearted.  Last 
night  I  was  verv  restless.  I  awoke  about  midnifjht.  The 
moonbeams  were  shining  clear  and  pale  across  my  cham- 
ber. I  had  an  unpleasant  fancy  coine  over  me,  that  I  was 
lying  upon  a  heap  of  human  bones,  instead  of  my  kegs  of 
gold.  Even  when  I  got  up  and  moved  off  a  little  to  take  a 
fairer  view,  I  could  not  quite  get  rid  of  the  idea.  These 
black  kegs  did  look  dead,  rotten,  and  kind  of  devilish  too, 
in  the  holy  moonlight. 

Some  hours  afterward  while  I  was  lying  on  tlie  damp 
stone  floor,  I  f«lt  something  crawl  over  my  breast ;  I  jumped 
up  hastily,  and  thought  I  saw  the  retreating  form  of  a 
snake  writhing  through  a  hole  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 
I  must  have  been  mistaken  about  this,  as  to-day  I  can 
find  no  trace  of  any  hole  or  crack — but  the  idea  was  real 
enough  to  spoil  the  balance  of  my  night's  rest.  I  did  so 
long  for  daylight,  that  I  could  have  shouted  for  joy  when  I 
saw  the  first  rays  of  the  sun  fall  aslant  upon  the  red  roofs 
of  the  Chagres  houses.  How  I  fretted  to  be  over  there 
only  for  a  moment,  just  to  have  a  cup  of  coffee  at  "  Old 
Joe's,"  or  a  drink  with  one  of  the  boatmen  ! 

What  if  gold  should  not  be  the  highest  good  after  ail  ? 
There  would  I  be  trapped  in  a  mean  position  truly  I 

But  I  happened  to  know  for  a  certainty  that  it  is.  I  had 
a  brother  once  who  died  suddenly  and  miserably,  as  if  he 
bad  been  stung  b\'  a  serpent,  because  he  could  not  or 
would  not  bov,-  himself  down  and  worship  gold  as  the  chief 
thing. 

It  happened  in  this  way.  lie  was  my  elder  brother  ano 
a  merchant.  In  his  early  life  he  had  been  wonderfully 
successful  in  his  ventures.     Like  old    Midas  he  seemed  to 


102  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

have  the  golden  touch,  but  he  did  not  prize  it  as  Midas 
did.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  free  and  profuse  in  his  expen- 
ditures, lie  married  young,  and  at  the  time  of  his  death 
had  about  him  a  large  iamily  of  little  children.  It's  the  old 
story  of  mis])laced  confidence  that  killed  him.  ^yhen  the 
truth  came  home  to  him,  that  men  sought  after  and  loved 
for  its  own  sake,  wliat  in  his  eyes  was  but  dross  in  itself, 
and  only  valuable  for  what  it  might  aid  in  efiecting ;  that 
gold  was  to  be  considered  as  an  end  and  not  a  means; 
that  he  had  been  buying  friendship  and  re>pect,  when 
he  had  all  along  suj)posed  it  to  be  tlie  voluntary  tribute  of 
loyal  hearts;  that  he  must  give  up  all  his  wealth  and  luxu- 
ries, and  see  himself  and  wife  and  little  ones  become  beggai-s, 
or  else  tui'u  crafty  IHce  the  rest ;  then  it  was  that  his  great 
heart  sank  within  him,  and  he  shut  himself  up  iti  his  own 
liouse  to  die.  He  was  not  angry  witli  fate ;  he  did  not 
immure  himself  thus  to  spite  her,  but  because  his  overflow- 
ing love  and  sympathy  had  gone  out  and  spread  itself 
widely  about  the  world,  and  had  all  of  it"Come  back  chilled 
and  dying,  because  he  recognised  in  himself  a  monster  who 
had  wilfully  preferred  honor  to  selfishness,  and  brotherly 
kindness  to  gold ;  and  because  lie  felt  that  it  was  too  late 
for  him  to  wean  himself  from  the  great  folly  of  his  early 
manhood,  and  learn  anew  the  ways  of  men  ;  this  was  why 
his  great  eyes  grew  dim  and  downcast,  looking  inward  with 
a  strange  misgiving  expression,  and  his  broad  clear  manly 
brow,  which  used  to  be  so  calm  and  noble,  became  knit  and 
clouded,  and  he  could  nowhere  find  strength  to  bear  up 
against  the  fatal  consequences  of  his  error. 

lie  died — and  I  shall  never,  never  forget  the  day  of  his 
burial — so  storm-drenched,  woe-begone,  and  (rod-forsaken 
as  the  woi'ld  seemed  that  day.  But  if  it  had  been  literally 
the  sunniest  one  that  Nature  ever  wove  her  smiles  for,  it 


THE  BOTTLE  MANUSCRIPT.  103 

would  have  been  the  same  or  worse,  even,  to  me — for  now 
it  was  as  if  the  old  mother  groaned  at  the  departure  of  a 
noble  son.  And  yet  it  was  truly  a  terrible  mistake  of  which 
he  died. 

That  night  I  lay  awake  for  a  long  time,  listening  to  the 
howling  storm,  and  wondering  where  my  brother  then  was, 
he  who  had  nursed  me  when  a  sick  boy,  and  instilled  into  me 
in  later  years,  a  portion  of  what  I  then  thought  his  glorious 
philosophy.  At  length  I  slept.  It  was  late  the  next  morn- 
ing when  I  awoke,  and  now  I  remember  as  if  it  were  only 
this  moi'ning  that  I  had  seen  it ;  how  diiiereut  was  the  face 
of  nature  from  the  previous  day.  The  weather  had  grown 
quite  cold  ;  and  over  the  fields,  and  on  the  house  tops  and 
fences,  and  on  the  branches  of  trees,  lay  a  vesture  of  the 
purest  white.  Oh !  how  serene  and  happy  I  felt  for  the 
moment,  for  I  could  not  dissuade  myself  from  the  fancy 
that  the  bare  and  desolate  earth  had  donned  that  snowy 
robe  to  typify  the  white  raiment  which  my  brother  was 
then  wearing  among  the  angels  in  the  new  world,  whither 
he  had  gone. 

Ha !  what  if  I  should  die  within  these  slimy  walls,  by 
the  side  of  these  rotten  kegs,  there  would  be  no  vesture  of 
snow  above  my  grave  I 

Here  Tom  ceased  to  read,  and  rolled  up  the  manuscript, 
to  the  great  relief  of  Colonel  Allen. 

"An  abrupt  termination,"  remarked  the  Major. 

"  He  had  probably  got  to  the  end  of  his  paper,"  said 
Judge  Smith ers. 

"  It  is  evidently  written,"  continued  the  Major,  "  by  some 
outward-bound  Californian,  ambitious  of  appearing  in  the 
Magazines,  under  some  such  bold  heading  as  'Manuscript 
found  in  a  bottle,  in  one  of  the  dungeons  of  San  Lorenzo  !'  " 

"  It  has  some  good  things  in  it,"  said  the  Judge,  "  and  is 


]04  I  AVE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

exactly  what  a  man  would  7iot  liave  written  under  the  cir- 
cumstances." 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?"  inquired  I  of  Colonel  Allen, 
who  was  mechanically  shuffling  the  pack  of  cards,  to  which 
allusion  has  already  been  made. 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  said  the  Colonel ;  "  it  is  neither  high, 
low.  Jack,  nor  the  game." 

"  I  propose,"  said  Monsieur  Crapolet,  with  a  shrug  of  his 
shoulders,  intended  to  awaken  "  the  subscriber "  to  a  sense 
of  his  duties,  "  that  as  we  have  abstained  for  a  long  time, 
probably  with  the  view  to  please  somebody,  we  now  treat 
ourselves  to  a  glass  of  punch  all  round." 


THE  PADRE.  105 


CHAPTER  X. 


THE   ]'ADRE. 


ON  the  following  inorning,  which  I  then  believed  to  be 
Sunday,  althougli  I  kept  no  '■  notched  stick,"  we  struck 
CUV  tents  and  took  up  our  line  of  march  back  to  Chagres. 
We  had  come  to  the  conclusion  to  try  the  river  route  as  far 
as  Gorgoua.  So  following  along  the  banks  of  the  philan- 
thropic stream,  Avhich  is  the  one  redeomittg  feature  in  old 
Chagres,  we  at  length  found  ourselves  in  the  outskirts  of  the 
town,  without  observing  any  visible  signs  of  its  having 
changed  much  during  our  absence.  Neither  do  I  now  recol- 
lect that  there  was  any  particular  evidence  of  its  being  the 
Sabbath.  Stay — there  was  one  old  crone  exciting  a  brace  of 
formidable-looking  cocks  to  a  little  frisky  skirmish  by  way 
of  a  whet,  and  on  my  venturing  an  observation  on  the  sub- 
ject to  Colonel  Allen,  she  favored  us  with  an  explanatory 
remark — "  Hoy,  no  es  domingo,  senor  I"  which  certainly 
there  was  no  denying. 

We  pitched  our  camp,  tliis  time,  a  little  in  the  rear  of 
Main  street,  not  far  from  Senor  Ramos'  liouse.  I  mention 
Senor  Ramos'  house  in  this  place  as  a  point  of  departure, 
because  a  good  many  years  ago — several  years,  in  fact,  before 
the  discovery  of  tlie  California  gold  mines — wlien  I  was  at 
Cambridge,  and  in  that  staid  locality  found  great  relief  in 
dipping  into  records  of  travel  and  adventure,  it  chanced  that 
I  lit  upon  a  very  entertaining  description  of  a  journey  from 

6* 


106  LIFE  ON  THE  JSTHlMUS. 

Chili  to  Jamaica,  via   tiie  Isthmus  of  Panama,  pubHslied  in 
one  of  the  British  Magazines. 

The  writer  had  been  particularly  cautioned,  -while  at  Cruces, 
about  exposing  himself  to  the  night  air  in  Chagres,  by  a 
Spanish  gentleman  residing  at  the  former  place,  of  whom, 
by  the  by,  he  relates  the  following  characteristic  anecdote. 
That  having,  as  a  consequence  of  a  letter  of  recommendation 
from  the  British  Consul  at  Panama,  charged  him  rather  mo- 
derately for  his  night's  lodging,  he  indemnified  his  finances 
for  this  eft'ort  of  honesty,  on  the  following  morning,  by  giving 
him  in  exchange  for  his  doubloons,  some  spurious  coin,  Avhich 
the  writer  was  only  able  to  dispose  of  afterwards  in  the  way 
of  gratuities  to  necessitous  persons.  This  very  respectable, 
business-like  gentleman  condescended  to  inform  him  in  quite 
H  confidential  manner,  that  there  was  one  house  at  Chagres 
where  lie  would  be  comparatively  safe,  but  that  he  must  on 
no  account  put  his  head  out  of  doors  during  the  night,  or 
immediate  death  would  be  the  result.  This  wonderful  man- 
sion, which  could  thus  hold  out  against  the  King  of  Terrors, 
was  the  house  of  Senor  Earaos,  and  was  air-tigljt.  Accord- 
ingly the  writer  goes  on  to  say — I  liave  got  the  gist  of  his 
narrative,  although  my  memory  does  not  retain  all  his  happy 
expressions — that  all  that  day  as  they  floated  down  the 
beautiful,  but  alas,  often  fatal  river  of  Chagres,  the  image  of 
Senor  Ramos'  air-tight  house  was  ever  before  him.  This 
Seijor  Ramos — what  a  man  he  must  be,  too,  to  have  the 
only  air-tight  house  in  a  place  where  a  residence  in  any  other 
kind  of  house  was  sure  to  terminate  fatally  in  a  short  time. 
To  reach  his  house  before  night-fall  was  salvation  ;  to  fail 
thereof,  was  to  become  food  for  alligators. 

Well,  the  writer  goes  on  to  describe  most  graphically  how 
they  did  finally  arrive  at  Chagres,  but  long  after  the  sun  had 
set,  although  he  had  been  spared  all  the  horrors  of  anticipa- 


THE  PADRE.  107 

tion  by  having  fallen  asleep  just  before  the  disappearance 
of  that  every-day  luminary.  He  was  aroused  from  his  slum- 
bers by  hearing  a  splash  or  Imo  in  the  water  alongside,  and 
becoming  fairly  awake,  found  to  his  unutterable  consterna- 
tion, that  his  dug-out  was  fast  on  a  mud  bank,  and  that  his 
natives  had  absconded — "  a  way  they  have  " — leaving  him 
to  take  care  of  himself  and  luggage.  It  Avas  probably  quite 
late,  for  there  were  no  lights  to  be  seen  on  shore.  What 
was  to  be  done  ?  The  man  of  the  air-tight  house,  how  was 
he  to  be  come  at  \  Would  he  venture  to  open  his  door  at 
such  a  time,  for  surely  a  gush  of  air  would  pour  in,  killing 
his  innocent  wife  and  darling  babes !  But  then  for  the  writer 
to  breathe  nothing  but  this  air  all  night — impossible. 

So  he  goes  on  to  say,  that  at  that  solemn  hour,  "  when  all 
around  was  still,"  he  set  himself  to  work  in  bellowing  most 
emphatically  the  name  of  Senor  Ramos,  thinking  that  as  he 
was  a  man' of  consequence,  this  call  must  surely  be  attended 
to  by  somebody.  By  and  by  a  man  came  down  and  inquired 
"  Per  el  amor  Dies,  que  hay  ?"  This  man  was  immediately 
bought  up  to  go  and  kick  \-igorously  at  Senor  Ramos'  door 
and  inform  him — Ramos — of  the  writer's  situation.  But,  alas, 
he  speedily  returned  with  the  melancholy  tidings  that  Senor 
Ramos  was  not  in  town  (where  could  he  have  been,  by 
the  by  ?),  and  that  the  family  would  not  open  the  door  at 
that  time  of  night  for  mortal  man.  So  our  hero  betook 
himself  to  an  Englishman's  invariable  preventative  for  mala- 
rial diseases,  the  drinking  of  brandy  and  water  and  smoking 
cigars ;  in  which  medicinal  occupation  he  continued  till  the 
arms  of  Morpheus  again  received  him,  and  he  awoke  not  till 
the  sun  was  fairly  risen,  when  he  informs  us  that  he  knelt 
down  and  thanked  God  that  in  his  merciful  Providence  he 
was  still  alive. 

This  narrative  made  a  curious  impression  on  me  at  the 


108  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

time.  I  conceived  a  morbid  desire  to  visit  such  a  deadly 
place  as  this  old  town  of  Chagres,  and  wondered  if  I  would 
die  there,  should  I  ever  do  so.  Senor  Ramos'  house  be- 
came an  object  of  interest  to  me,  and  a  place  to  be  seen, 
as  the  Coliseum,  St.  Paul's,  or  the  Louvre.  And  that 
is  why  I  now  say  that  our  camp  was  pitched  not  far  from  there. 

But  ask  the  untravelled  reader,  was  Senor  Ramos'  house 
such  a  grand  editice,  and  was  it  air-tight  ?  Certainly  not ; 
but  at  the  time  I  did  not  know  how  writers,  generally  con- 
sidered of  the  strictest  veracity,  will  sometimes  sift  a  little 
spice  of  fiction  into  their  works,  where  there  is  a  chance  of 
producing  an  impression.  Yet  the  Ramos  mansion,  even  in 
my  time,  was  the  best  house  in  Chagres.  It  was  a  frame 
building  of  one  story  and  a  half,  with  a  piazza  in  front,  a  re- 
gular pitch  pine  tioor,  and  a  tight  thatched  roof  projecting 
down  over  the  piazza,  making  that  quite  a  cool  and  inviting 
spot  for  a  lounge  in  the  day-time.  And  it  might  have  been 
comparatively  air-tight ;  and  certainly,  with  its  raised  wooden 
floor,  must  have  been  a  healthier  place  to  sleep  in  than  the 
wretched  huts  around. 

One  day,  the  Major  came  to  me  with  quite  a  chuckling 
air,  and  showed  me  a  small  bag  of  specie  which  he  had 
received  of  Senor  Ramos,  in  exchange  for  some  doubloons, 
which,  notwithstanding  all  our  unlucky  adventures,  he  had 
still  left  among  his  stores. 

"  Seventeen  dollars  to  the  doubloon,"  said  he,  with  the  air 
of  a  successful  financial  operator. 

"  Let  me  see  the  dollars,"  said  L 

"  The  real  metal,"  said  the  Major,  taking  one  out,  and  ring- 
ing it  on  the  table. 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  I,  "  the  real  metal,  only  these  happen  to 
be  New  Granadian  dollars,  which  are  only  worth  some  seventy 
or  eighty  cents  each  in   the  States,  and  your  Spanish  dou- 


THE  PADRE.  109 

bloons  are  wortli  according  to  our  hist  prices  current,  sixteen 
American  dollars  and  forty  cents." 

The  Major  was  extremely  crest-fallen,  particularly  as  I 
laughed  quite  heartily,  which  I  did  from  thinking  of  Senor 
Ramos'  "  indemnifying  his  finances,"  like  his  Cruces  contem- 
porary, for  the  impertinent  curiosity  with  which  himself  and 
his  establishment  were  often  visited. 

Apart  from  Senor  Ramos'  air-tight  house,  Ciiagres  proper 
18  truly  a  wretched  old  town,  and  yet  I  think  the  American 
side  the  most  execrable  of  the  two.  But  the  native  side  has 
existed  for  years  in  its  present  filthy,  dilapidated  condition. 
It  is  the  Jiome — Heaven  forgive  us  for  thus  desecrating  that 
holiest  of  words — of  its  inhabitants.  Here  Avere  they  boi'u, 
and  here  they  grow  up  ;  here,  in  fulness  of  time,  they  are 
supposed  to  have  married,  and  become  fathers  and  mothers  ; 
and  when  we  look  upon  the  place  in  this  light,  its  mean 
kennel-like  hovels,  its  putrid  streets,  its  stagnant  pools,  its 
slrmy  pavements,  its  hairless  dogs,  its  sick  carrion-fed  pigs,  its 
sneaking  lizards,  characteristic  crabs,  its  scorpions,  centipedes, 
and  tarantulas,  all  of  the  latter  accepted  as  belonging  to 
the  category  of  domestic  animals — I  must  confess  that  I  find, 
it  hard  to  recognise  these  natives  as  members  of  the  same 
great  family  as  myself.  That  this  place  should  be  so  low 
and  vile  and  loathsome,  when  it  is  set  in  a  frame  of  such 
magnificent  verdure ;  that  these  people  should  eat  pork 
and  drink  the  most  inflammatory  of  fire  water,  when  the 
orange,  the  mango,  and  the  banana  are  ripe  and  mellow, 
and  rotting  even  on  the  trees,  within  a  few  rods  of  their 
thresholds  !  It  is  certainly  no  impious  presumption  on  my 
part,  to  hope  their  heaven,  whatever  it  is  to  be,  may  not 
be  mine.  And  yet,  there  is  no  toad,  however  "  ugly  and 
venomous,  but  wears  some  precious  jewel  in  its  head." 
So  these  fellows  have  served,  and  are  yet  serving,  _a  good 


110  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

purpose  in  their  way  ;  and  the  dogged  perseverance  with 
which  they  have  given  the  sons  of  Empire  a  shove  on 
their  careering  path,  is  quite  a  redeeming  trait  in  their 
bestial  character. 

The  town,  be  it  remarked,  in  passing,  is  not  entirely  des- 
titute of  civic  character,  as  at  first  siglit  would  appear  to  be 
the  case.  From  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  huts,  one  would  be 
a  little  puzzled  to  fix  upon  the  precise  locality  of  the  Court 
House,  City  Hall,  or  Church,  yet  Chagres  lays  claim  to  a 
Judge,  an  Alcalde,  and  a  Priest.  And  speaking  of  the  priest, 
one  day  while  we  were  at  Chagres,  a  little  adventure 
occurred,  of  which  he  was  the  hero.  The  incident  is  not 
very  funny,  but  to  those  who  have  met  the  man,  and  view 
it  in  connexion  with  his  ghostly  functions,  I  liave  reason  to 
hope  that  it  may  prove  slightly  laughable. 

I  will  premise  the  narrative,  by  describing  this  dignitary  as 
being  personally  of  a  sad  and  sallow  cast. 

» 
"Long,  and  lean,  and  lank, 
As  is  the  ribbed  sea  sand  !" 

With  eyes,  of  which  the  wliites  were  emphatically  "sicklied 
o'er,"  straight  black  hair  like  an  Indian's,  a  solemn,  woe- 
begone expression  in  general,  everlastingly  habited  in  black, 
but  of  a  texture  nowise  akin  to  that  which  derives  its  name 
from  its  eternal  dnrability — profound  in  his  meditations, 
shallow  in  the  crown  of  his  sombrero;  "  stately  in  his  cour- 
tesies, and  scanty  in  his  nether  api>arel."  Such  was  the 
melancholy  padre  in  persona. 

Well,  then,  it  happened  that  one  day  we  were  at  the 
identical  bazaar,  spoken  of  in  a  previous  work,  as  the  ex- 
tensive property  of  "General  Jackson,"  when  the  church 
dignitary  under  discussion  entered.      Never  was  a  philan- 


THE  PADRE.  Ill 

thropic  question  put  to  mortal  man,  with  more  aptitude, 
than  that  which  the  great  general  addressed  to  the  priest, 
when  his  sombre  shadow  first  fell  across  the  thi-eshold. 

*'  Padre,  will  you  smile  V 

The  padre's  risible  organs  relaxed  not,  but  he  bowed  his 
head  profoundly,  and  stalked  back  of  the  counter,  where  I 
am  inclined  to  believe  that,  if  the  term  "  smile"  referred 'on 
that  occasion  to  taking  a  drink  of  spirituous  liquor,  as  I  am 
told  it  sometimes  does,  the  padre  smiled  long  and  frequently. 
At  any  rate,  when  he  came  forth  again  into  the  Gentile 
world,  his  eyes  had  a  dancing  gleam  in  them,  quite  different 
fron]  anything  which  we  liad  before  remarked  in  that 
locality  ;  and  his  body  swayed  to  and  fro,  as  he  propelled, 
as  if  in  sympathy  with  some  internal  mirthfulness. 

Out  walked  the  regenerated  padre  Into  the  open  sunshine — 
for  there  are  times  when  theie  is  sunshine  at  Chagres — as 
has  been  before  remarked. 

There  was  a  schooner  lying  directly  in  front  of  the  Greneral's 
emporium,  with  a  plank  stretched  from  her  i-ail  to  the  shore. 
"  Whom  the  gods  would  destroy,  they  first  make  mad,"  is  an 
old  proverb,  and  just  as  certain  is  it  that  when  a  man  is 
"  wrong,"  "  sick,"  "  shot  in  the  neck,"  or  whatever  little 
misfortune  of  a  like  nature  he  may  be  afflicted  with,  these 
same  gods  invariably  instil  into  his  mind  a  wilful  and  uncon- 
querable determination  "  to  walk  a  plank."  But  not  to  wrong 
our  padre,  or  scandalize  his  sacred  oflice,  it  is  but  fair  to  re- 
member that  this  propensity  may  proceed  from  other  causes. 
We  have  it  upon  no  less  authority  than  that  of  Mr.  Richard 
Swiveller,  that  the  mere  tact  of  a  man's  "having  the  sun  in 
his  eyes,"  may  so  confuse  his  perceptions,  as  to  put  him  in 
quite  a  lamentable  plight.  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  priest 
saw  the  plank,  and  all  the  boatmen  in  Chagres  would  have 
been  powerless  to  dissuade  him  from  an  attempt  to  walk  it. 


112  LIFE  OS  THE  ISTHMUS. 

The  Gefieral  and  bis  cFerk  were  watching  him  from  the 
door. 

"  Steady,  Padre,"  said  the  (ieneral,  as  the  padre  first  tried 
the  plank  to  assure  himself  of  its  steadiness. 

"  Steady,  old  boy,"  said  Fred. 

"  He'll  never  get  aboard,"  said  the  General,  for  the  padre 
appeared  to  have  a  dead  beat  of  it. 

"  Perhaps  he'll  have  a  little  more  soap  on  his  boots," 
suggested  Fred. 

But  he  seemed  to  have  quite  soap  ejiough,  for  at  the  same 
moment  the  vessel  gave  a  rather  sudden  lurch  inward,  which 
joggled  the  plank,  and  was  the  means  of  precipitating  the 
ambitious  dignitary  into  the  muddy  \vater  of  the  river.  The 
water  was  not  above  the  padre's  height  in  the  spot  Avhere  he 
fell,  but  yet  he  contrived  somehow  to  get  his  head  under  two 
or  three  times ;  and  each  time  that  that  sallow^  appendage 
emerged  from  the  plunge,  his  straight  Indian-like  hair  seemed 
to  have  acquired  an  extra  tenacity,  and  stuck  to  his  hollow 
forehead  and  cheek-bones  like  bark  to  a  young  tree. 

The  General  was  inwardly  delighted  and  outwardly 
shocked,  and  toddled  off  some  distance  up  the  levee  to 
get  a  boat,  while  Fred,  who  took  the  matter  very  coolly,  as 
a  thing  which  he  was  quite  prepared  for,  picked  up  a  boat- 
hook  in  the  store,  and  proceeded  to  the  bank  to  fish  up  the 
unfortunate  priest.  Before  attending  to  his  case,  however, 
Fred  attacked  the  floating  beaver,  which  bringing  safely  to 
shore,  he  there  elevated  with  his  thumb  and  forefinger  as  if 
it  were  a  foot-ball,  and  gave  it  a  kick  which  sent  it  soaring 
to  a  distance  of  some  fifty  feet  down  the  levee,  where  it  was 
picked  up  by  a  party  of  stragglers,  who  made  oft'  with  it — 
probably  to  carry  out  the  joke.  He  then  applied  himself  to 
the  saturated  padre,  and  having  got  a  secure  hold  upon  the 
seat  of  his  trowsers,  had  no  difficulty  in  bringing  him  to  land. 


THE  PAD  an.  113 

But  \vhat''a  pliglit  he  was  in  !  His  shiny  bhiek  suit 
seemed  pasted  to  him  Hke  so  much  court  plaster.  To  say 
that  he  was  drenched,  soaked,  or  saturated,  would  convey 
no  correct  idea  of  his  thoroughly  humid  condition.  Here 
was  a  damp,  moist,  watery  sort  of  a  padre.  You  might 
have  wrung  out  of  the  stitching  of  one  of  his  button-holes, 
more  liquid  than  a  contemplation  of  all  the  sins  and  miseries 
of  the  human  race  would  ever  have  squeezed  from  under  his 
eyelids. 

Jackson,  who  now  hove  in  sight,  sculling  a  boat  under  the 
vessel's  stern,  seeing  at  a  glance  the  state  of  things,  suggested 
to  Fred,  with  his  customary  forethought,  that  the  padre 
should  be  taken  into  the  shop  and  treated  to  something 
warming.  Whereupon  Fred  drew  one  of  the  padre's  arms 
within  his  own,  and  shouting  "  Come  along,  old  gal," 
to  the  infinite  amusement  of  those  boys  standing  around, 
whose  early  days  had  been  spent  iu  tiie  neighborhood  of 
the  Bowery,  lifted  his  right  log  once  or  twice  to  a  right- 
angular  position  with  his  body,  and  brought  it  firmly  back 
to  the  ground  again,  before  really  setting  out,  intending 
thereby  to  give  a  farcelike  character  to  the  whole  transaction. 
So  much  devoted  was  Fred,  nevertheless,  to  his  employer's 
interest,  and  so  anxious  to  carry  out  his  orders  iu  the  most 
literal  manner,  that  having  got  the  unfortunate  padre  safe 
into  the  shop,  he  contrived  to  get  two  glasses  of  the  Gene- 
ral's worst  brandy  down  his,  the  padre's,  throat,  before  the 
proprietor  of  the  establishment  appeared. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Jackson,  pufling  with  his  unusual  exer- 
tion as  he  came  in,  "  we'll  see  what  we  can  do  for  this  poor 
devil  in  the  way  of  a  little  something  to  drink,  eh,  mio  amigo." 

"  Con  mucho  gusto,"  said  the  j>adre,  and  he  dispatched 
two  generous  glasses  more. 

"Now  for  a  change  of  clothes,"  said  the  General. 


114  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"His  toilette  sliall  be  atteuded  to,"  said  Fred.  "Walk 
this  way." 

"With  much  difficulty  the  padre  was  got  up  stairs,  Avhere 
Fred  in  a  business-like  manner  proceeded  to  strip  him, 
calling  at  the  same  time  upon  Jackson  for  such  unclerical 
robes  as  his  "  striped  shorts,"  and  "  bottle  green  cut 
away." 

"  But,"  said  the  General,  suggestively,  "  your  clothes  will 
answer  better." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  Fred,  "  mine  '11  fit  him." 

"  True,"  said  the  General,  "  they  may  be  considered  open 
to  that  objection." 

"  Ain't  these  clothes  rather  large  1"  asked  the  padre, 
in  bad  Spanish,  and  a  misgiving  tone,  as  he  cast  his  eye 
upon  the  baggy-looking  cast-offs  of  Jackson. 

"  Large  !"  said  Fred,  "just  wait  till  you're  full-rigged — 
large — well  done — pretty  fair." 

"But,"  said  the  padre,  "  they  look  so " 

"  Wait  till  the  pillows  are  in,  and  you'll  see,"  said  Fred. 

Fred  had  by  this  time  got  the  church  dignitary  into  shirt, 
drawees,  and  stockings,  and  now  proceeded  to  apply  two 
pillows  to  his  lank  frame  in  order  to  make  Jackson's  gar- 
ments stick,  as  he  observed. 

"  Is  this  the  way  people  wear  their  clothes  in  America  ?" 
inquired  the  padre. 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  said  Fred.  "  Now,  then,  my  boy,  raise 
your  leg  a  little — so,  now  the  other,"  and  the  ordinarily  black- 
robed  official  was  encased,  so  far  as  his  nether  extremities 
went,  probably  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  in  a  pair  of 
striped  trowsers, 

"Shall  we  furnish  him  with  a  waistcoat?"  asked  Fred. 

"  There  is  my  old  mouse-colored  velveteen,"  observed  Jack- 
son, "  if  that  would  be  appropriate  for  him." 


THE  PADRE.  115 

"  Oh,  quite  so,"  said  Fred,  and   the  mouse-colored  velve- 
teen was  brought  forth  and  donned. 

"  And  now  for  the  coat,"  said  Fred. 

The  coat  was  likewise  adapted  without  difficulty,  and  the 
priest  stood  before  us,  a  very  fat  man  in  his  paunch  and  rear, 
but  with  extraordinarily  thin  extremities.  His  head  looked 
like  that  of  a  man  who  had  lost  his  own  and  was  trying  on 
several,  and  having  pitched  upon  one  which  did  not  accord 
at  all  with  his  general  appearance,  was  keeping  it  on  a  mo- 
ment just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing.  His  trowsers  being  too 
short  in  the  legs  and  his  coat  as  much  too  scanty  in 
the  sleeves,  displayed  to  full  view  his  meagre  wrists  and 
ankles,  which,  taken  in  connexion  with  his  general  wooden 
appearance,  made  one  almost  think  him  to  be  an  image  which 
had  Somehow  been  exposed  in  the  nightrtime,  and  for  whose 
dilapidated  extremities  the  rats  were  answerable.  The  mat- 
ter of  the  ankles,  however,  was  remedied  by  Fred,  who 
enticed  the  unwary  padre  into  a  pair  of  Jackson's  high 
boots,  leaving  a  portion  of  the  striped  trowsers  inside  of  the 
same.  Nothing  was  now  wanting  but  a  hat.  Two  were  pro- 
duced, or  rather  one  hat,  and  one  cap.  The  hat  was  of  a 
dirt  color,  whether  originally  so  or  not  I  cannot  say,  of -^ 
low  round  top  and  broad  brim,  a  Id  California^  The  cap 
was  a  thin  one,  of  a  light-colored  cloth,  and  of  the  style 
denominated  "  skull."  The  hat  was  decided  on  as  the  most 
appropriate,  and  the  padre's  costume  was  complete. 

I  have  been  thus  particular  in  describing  the  making  up 
of  this  ghostly  functionary  on  this  occasion,  because  in 
a  quiet,  humorous  way,  it  was  equal  to  anything  I  had  lately 
seen.  The  idea  of  this  bundle  of  dry  bones  in  the  shape  of 
an  old  Spanish  padre  being  clothed  in  baggy  striped 
trowsers  and  a  bottle-green  coat  of  the  latest  Newmarket 
cut  with  metal  buttons :  why  the  little  incident  of  Mr.  Sleek 


116  LIFE  O.V  THE  ISTHMUS. 

of  the  "  Serious  Family"  being  invited  out  to  have  "  a  jolly 
good  time,"  by  Captain  Maguire,  was  nothing  to  it. 

But  to  shorten  this  lengthy  narrative  of  a  very  trifling 
incident,  I  will  just  add,  that  the  padre,  not  being  accustom- 
ed to  his  new  suit,  fell  in  getting  down  stairs,  and  took  an 
internal  application  of  brandy  and  water  for  his  bruises, 
after  which  he  sallied  forth  to  look  up  a  boat  to  take  him  to 
the  other  side.  Misfortune  does  not  always  command  the 
deference  which  is  its  due.  As  the  padre  left  the  hospitable 
establishment  of  General  Jackson,  I  am  compelled  to  say,  as 
a  faithful  delineator  of  facts,  that  quite  a  concourse  of  those 
boys,  before  alluded  to,  as  having  probably  been  educated 
near  the  Bowery,  received  him  with  shouts  bordering  on 
derision,  accompanied  with  such  observations  as  :  "  Halloa, 
old  gal,  you  round  again  !"  "  I  say,  Friar  Tuck,  hold  on  a 
bit,  I  want  to  confess."  "  When  is  the  next  cock  fight  ?" 
"  Come  on,  old  lady,  take  my  arm,"  and  many  another  of 
the  same  elevated  tone. 

"  Speaking  of  blacklegs,"  said  Tom  to  me  that  evening, 
as  we  were  sitting  together  after  a  very  promiscuous  dinner, 
"  you  should  have  seen  the  old  priest  to-day  when  he  came 
across.     Such  a  figure  I" 

"  How  was  he  dressed,  Tom  1" 

"  Dressed  !  Well,  he  had  on  a  trotting  coat  and  wore  his 
trowsers  inside  of  his  boots,  a  C;ilifornia  hat — and  let  me 
see — yes,  a  money  belt  strapped  round  his  waist,  with  a  din- 
ner knife  stuck  in  behind."  (This  last  item  was  an  embel- 
lishment of  Tom's.) 

"  Well,  if  the  clothes  fitted—" 

"  Oh,  they  were  a  capital  fit ;  but  .it^uichovv  the  priest  was 
considerably  swollen.  I  should  think  he  had  eaten  a  peck 
of  dried  apples  for  breakfast,  and  done  nothing  but  drink  all 
the  morning.     Then  he  was  so  solemn  under  it  all." 


THE  PADRE.  Ill 

"  Well,  Tom,  what  happened  ?" 

"  Why,  just  after  he  landed,  he  met  a  troop  of  his  apostles 
going  in  sheets  and  lighted  candles  to  do  what  the  doctors 
had  not  quit«  finished  with  a  sick  Frenchman,  a  few  doors 
above  here.  The  priest  wanted  to  beg  oft",  but  it  was  no 
use,  go  he  must,  and  just  as  he  stood ;  it  was  great  to  see 
him." 

'•  And  I  suppose  they  finished  the  man  at  once  ?" 

"  No,  they  didn't :  it  appears  that  the  Frenchman,  seeing 
the  priest  on  such  a  regular  time,  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
there  was  something  worth  living  for,  after  all,  and  has  been 
getting  better  ever  since." 

"  Now,  Tom,  what  should  you  say  if  I  should  tell  you  that 
water — nothing  but  water — was  the  cause  of  that  strange 
metamorphosis  in  the  priest's  costume  ?" 

"  Well,"  answered  Tom,  thoughtfully,  "  I  suppose  that  I 
should  have  to  believe  you,  but  I  would  much  rather  that 
you  wouldn't  test  my  powers  of  credulity  exactly  in  that 
wav." 


118  LIFE  ON   THE  ISTHMUS. 


CHAPTER  XI. 


DKVELOPMEXTS. 


THERE  was  nothing  particular  to  detain  us  at  Chagies ; 
and  so  on  the  morning  after  our  return  from  our  hoot- 
less  tramp  in  the  woods  (it  was  literally  such  to  poor  Allen), 
Tom  and  I  crossed  the  river  to  arrange  for  havges  to  take  the 
camels  and  ourselves  to  Gorgona,  It  was  a  fortunate  cir- 
cumstance for  us  that  no  steamers  were  in  at  the  time  and 
none  expected  for  some  days,  and  we  were  on  tliat  account 
enabled  to  obtain  conveyance  at  a  comparatively  reasonable 
\\.  rate.  Still  the  expense  was  enormous.  But  the  gentleman 
'^vith  whom  we  engaged  was  a  dashing  sort  of  speculator, 
and  made  the  payment  of  our  freight  so  very  accommodating 
that  we  felt  ourselves  particularly  lucky  again  in  falling  in 
with  him.  Poor  fellow,  he  is  since  dead,  and  his  partner 
likewise.  He  had  buffeted  the  rude  world  long  and  bravely 
in  many  another  wild  spot,  and  had  come  to  Cliagres  for 
liis  death  wound.  I  fancy  it  was  a  certain  rough  chivalric 
idea  of  being  the  topmost  hero  somewhere,  that  had  brought 
liim  hither.  But  however  that  may  be,  he  did  us  a  good 
turn,  and  lie  will  sleep  none  the  less  lightly  m  his  grave  for 
that. 

We  engaged  six  barges  for  our  camels  and  one  for  our- 

''  selves  and  luggage,  and  completed  our  arrangements  for 

taking  a  fresh  start  p.arlv  next  morning,  by  which  means,  the 


DEVELOPMENTS.  119 

proprietor  of  the  barges  informed  us,  \vc  would  reacli  Dos 
Hermanos  by  night-fall. 

Tom  and  I  then  went  round  to  the  Empire  City  Hotel,  to 
inquire  after  our  old  friends.  We  had  been  away  from  the 
American  Chagres  only  two  days  ;  but  two  days  in  Chagres 
are  equal  to — what  shall  I  say  ? — often  to  years  in  other 
places,  so  suddenly  are  great  changes  there  wrought ;  and 
these  two  days  of  our  absence  had  been  by  no  means  deti- 
cient  in  incident. 

Whom  should  we  behold  on  turning  the  corner  but  the 
veritable  Quanto  Valley  himself,  seated  upon  the  piazza  of 
the  hotel,  with  his  hat  off,  his  chair  slightly  tilted  backward, 
his  legs  reposing  upon  a  second  chair,  and  himself  employed 
mechanically  in  picking  his  teeth,  while  he  evidently  revolved 
something  in  his  mind  to  his  entire  satisfaction. 

•'  Mr.  Vale,"  said  I,  grasping  his  hand  cordially,  "  how  are 
things,  my  dear  fellow  ^" 

''  Ah  !"  exclaimed  he,  on  recognising  us ;  "  so  you  are 
back  already.  Well,  I  am  not  the  man  to  make  a  person 
feel  unpleasantly  by  alluding  to  any  little  failure  he  may 
liappen  to  have  made,  by  an  error  in  his  calculations,  although 
you  will  recollect  that  I — " 

"  Oh,  perfectly,"  said  I,  smiling  ;  "  but  where  is  Parkins  f 

"  Ah,  true,  Parkins — well,  Parkins  is  sick,  and  there's  no 
knowing  where  he'd  ha'  been  by  this  time,  if  it  hadn't  ha" 
been  for  me." 

"  Hovering  about  his  couch  like  a  ministering  angel," 
observed  Tom,  poetically. 

"  And  where  is  Parkins  now  ?"  inquired  I ;  for  it  did  not 
seem  to  agree  with  the  fitness  of  things  that  Vale  should  be 
enjoying  such  excessive  complacency,  while  Parkins  might 
be  writhing  with  pain — perhaps  dying  alone,  in  agony  of 
soul. 


120  LIFE  UN  THE  ISTHMUS. 

''Well,  just  uow,"  replied  Vale,  "Parkins  is  up  stairs  ia 
the  room  occupied  by  young  Vitti  before  the  blow-up  here." 

"  What  blow  up  ?" 

"  Why,  the  great  affair  of  the  day — the  elopement — the 
murder.  Why,  I  tell  you  what ;  there's  the  material  here 
for  a  whole  fashionable  romance,  in  six  volumes.  I  have 
half  a  njind  to  write  it  out  myself.     What  do  publishers — " 

"  Nonsense,  man  ;  what  are  you  talking  of?  Have  Angelo 
Vitti  and  his  sister  actually  left  this  house  ?" 

"  Of  course  they  have." 

"  And  who  is  the  present  landlord  V 

"  I  am." 

*'  Now,  come.  Vale,  my  good  fellow ;  I  am  greatly  inte- 
rested in  this  matter.  Sit  down  here,  and  tell  me  all  about 
it.     Vitti  has  gone,  eh  ?" 

"  Yes,  Vitti  has  gone.  But,  to  begin  at  the  beginning,  the 
same  day  that  you  left,  Vitti's  sister — that  young  girl,  you 
recollect,  that  nursed  the  Purlevous  Count,  after  he  was 
fished  out  of  the  water  by  Vitti — well,  she  was  missing.  She 
was  away  from  the  house  the  whole  day.  Vitti  was  dread- 
fully troubled  about  it ;  for  she  wasn't  used  to  be  off  by  her- 
self, and  never  without  his  knowledge.  Nobody  could 
explain  anything  about  it.  That  same  night,  after  dark, 
Parlevous,  he  gets  a  canoe,  takes  his  saddle-bags  with  him, 
and  oft"  he  goes  to  join  her  at  some  rendezvous  agreed  upon." 

"  Stop ;  how  do  you  know  that  ?" 

"Why,  they  didn't  go  together."' 

"  But  how  do  you  know  that  there  was  an  understanding 
between  them  as  to  eloping  in  this  way  ?" 

''  I  guess  there's  no  otlier  way  of  accounting  for  it." 

"  Go  on." , 

"  Yesterday  morning,  when  Vitti  found  this  out,  he  lashed 
round   in   great  style.     I  thought  he  was  crazy.     Nothing 


DEVELOPMENTS.  121 

would  do  but  he  must  have  a  boat,  and  go  in  pursuit ;  and 
he  swore  a  terrible  oath,  that  if  any  wrong  had  been  done  to 
his  sister  by  old  Parlevous,  he'd  have  his  heart's  blood,  if 
he  swung  for  it ;  which  he  wouldn't  be  likely  to  do  down 
here.     Hark  !  there's  Parkins  up." 

"  Never  mind  Parkins ;  go  on  with  your  story." 

"  But  I  was  to  have  bled  Parkins  when  he  woke." 

"  Let  his  blood  alone,  and  take  care  that  you  don't  commit 
murder.     Go  on  with  your  story,  sir." 

"Let's  see.  I  was  telling  you  that  Vitti  was  off  after 
them.  It  seems  that  he  overtook  them  at  Dos  Hermanas — 
that  is,  he  didn't  find  his  sister,  but  he  found  Parlevous,  and 
was  so  enraged  to  think  that  his  sister  had  been  made  away 
with,  that  he  murdered  him  on  the  spot.  That  was  last 
evening.  A  boat  left  soon  after,  and  arrived  here  this 
morning  with  the  news." 

"  A  very  likely  story,  Mr.  Vale !" 

"  You  don't  believe  it,  then  1" 

*'  Precious  little  of  it." 

"  But  you  believe  that  the  Count  is  dead  ?" 

"Yes.'"' 

"  And  that  Vitti  killed  him  1" 

"No." 

"  Well,  you  believe  that  Carlotta  Vitti  has  run  away  1" 

"Yes." 

"  And  that  she  eloped  with  the  Count  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Well,  I  have  told  you  all  I  know  about  it.  Now,  I  must 
go  and  doctor  Parkins." 

"  Stop  a  moment.    Where  is  your  friend,  the  snake  man  1" 

"  Devil  knows,  perhaps — I  don't." 

"  Go  ahead  ;  I'll  be  with  you  in  a  moment." 

Here  was  a  pretty  batch  of  developments,  strung  together 
6 


122  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

at  rather  short  notice.  Something  of  all  this  I  had  expected, 
but  certainly  not  to  this  extent.  Why,  it  was  like  the  at- 
mospheric freaks  at  Chagres.  At  one  moment,  the  softest, 
balmiest  sunshine ;  and  the  next,  a  black,  cloud-walled  arch, 
and  the  most  terrible  lightning  and  thunder.  I  breathed 
short  under  the  influence  of  it ;  I  knew  not  what  to  think. 
As  for  action,  I  was  powerless  to  move.  That  there  was 
some  great  mistake  somewhere,  I  was  perfectly  satisfied ; 
but  what  was  it  ?  How  could  it  be  brought  to  light  and 
cleared  up  ? 

While  my  mind  was  staggering  under  this  load  of  doubt 
and  mystery,  and  I  was  fairly  working  myself  into  a  fever,  in 
attempting  to  get  at  some  satisfactory  interpretation,  I 
heard  the  voice  of  Vale,  calling  upon  us  to  come  up  stairs. 
We  immediately  obeyed,  and  there  was  Parkins  in  a  long 
nightshirt,  shivering  and  sallow,  sitting  upon  the  sofa,  with 
his  feet  in  a  bucket  of  water.  It  was  evident  that  his  feeble 
show  of  opposition  to  his  old  partner  had  all  faded  out, 
under  the  influence  of  the  fever,  and  he  regarded  Vale  with 
the  querulous  respect  which  a  sick  child  evinces  towards  its 
nurse. 

"  What  is  this.  Parkins  ?"  said  I  cheerily,  by  way  of  raising 
his  spirits ;  "  a  little  under  the  weather,  eh  ?" 

"  Sick,"  said  Parkins,  in  a  feeble,  melancholy  tone,  "  very 
sick." 

"And  what  is  this  operation  of  soaking  the  feet  for, 
Vale?" 

"  That's  to  relieve  his  head,"  answered  Vale ;  "  I  gave  him 
physic  yesterday  to  relieve  his  bowels,  and  am  going  to  bleed 
him  directly  to  relieve  his  system  generally." 

"  And  you're  in  a  fair  way  to  relieve  him  of  his  system 
altogether,  Vale." 

"  I  think  I  know  something  about  doctoring,"  replied  Vale, 


DE  VELOPMEN  TS.  1 2  ;5 

indignantly  ;  "  didn't  I  have  fourteen  men  with  me  on  board 
of  tlie  steamer  from  New  York — men  that  I  was  taking  to 
Cahforniaon  shares,  and  paying  their  passage  through — and 
didn't  I  preserve  tliem  all  in  an  excellent  state  of  health  by 
doctoring." 

"  Yes,"  said  Parkins,  with  a  faint  smile,  for  even  in  his 
great  debility  he  could  not  resist  the  opportunity  to  make  a 
point  against  Vale  ;  "  you  doctored  them  rather  too  much  for 
your  own  interest.  You  see," — continued  Parkins,  turning 
towards  Tom  and  myself,  "  Vale  used  to  give  these  men  bit- 
ters three  times  a  day,  an  hour  before  each  meal,  and  being- 
steerage  passengers,  they  could  not  get  enough  at  table  to 
satisfy  their  appetites  after  this  extra  sharpening,  and  so  made 
an  agreement  for  additional  board  with  the  cook,  at  the  rate 
of  four  dollars  per  week,  Avhich  of  course  Vale  had  to  pay  ?" 

"  And  what  has  become  of  those  fourteen  men  ?"  inquired 
Tom. 

"  Vamosed,"  said  Vale  laconically,  to  whom  the  subject 
was  an  unpleasant  one. 

"  Now,  see  here,  Vale,"  said  I,  to  bring  the  subject  back  to 
the  starting  point,  "  the  course  you  are  pursuing  with  Par- 
kins will  certainly  result  in  his  death.  Just  for  once  allow 
rae  to  know  more  than  you  can  be  expected  to.  This  man 
has  got  chills  and  fever,  his  liver  is  torpid,  and  requires  some 
active  medicine  to  rouse  it  to  a  healthy  state,  after  which  a 
few  doses  of  quinine  will  effectually  break  up  his  fever,  and 
if  he  behaves  himself  in  future,  he  may  go  on  his  way  re- 
joicing.    But  I  do  not  undertake  to  prescribe.     My  friend 

Dr.  G ,  who  is  very  successful  in  his  treatment  of  these 

cases,  will  soon  put  him  all  right ;  whereas  if  you  persist  in 
your  treatment,  you  will  kill  him." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Vale,  who  indeed  was  easily  persuaded 
into  anything,  "  you  may  call  your  friend  the  doctor.     As 


124  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

landlord  of  this  hotel,  I  have  about  as  much  as  I  can  attend 
to,  any  how." 

Parkins  brightened  up  amazingly,  as  much  from  seeing 
his  old  partner  and  adversary  put  down,  as  from  a  prospect 
of  getting  actual  relief  in  a  legitimate  way.  Shortly  after 
I  met  Doctor  G ,  and  first  receiving  from  him  a  confir- 
mation of  Vale's  developments,  I  dispatched  him  to  the  rescue 
of  Parkins,  which  I  am  happy  to  be  able  to  say,  he  accom- 
plished in  a  few  days. 

During  the  remainder  of  that  day  and  evening,  I  staggered 
about  like  a  man  who,  having  eyes,  saw  not.  I  was  com- 
pletely bewildered  by  the  news  which  I  had  heard.     If  this 

Marquis  de  G was  murdered,  and  there  were  reasonable 

grounds  for  suspecting  Vitti,  I  was  not  so  sure  of  bis  not 
swinging  for  it,  as  Vale  seemed  to  be.  At  Chagres  people 
act  mostly  from  personal  feeling  or  impulse,  upon  which  there 
is  no  counting  with  any  certainty  as  to  results.  But  that 
frail  and  delicate  girl,  one  half  of  whose  thoughts  and 
afiiections  were  in  Heaven,  and  the  other  half  occupied  with 
the  holiest  duties  of  earth,  who  was  not,  I  was  sure,  a  guilty 
party  in  this  strange  aft'air — what  had  become,  or  what  would 
under  any  supposable  circumstances  become  of  her  ? 


CHAGRES  RIVER.  125 


CHAPTER  XII. 


CHAGRES  RIVER. 


A  BRIGHT,  sunshiny  morning ;  fresh,  dewy,  breezy,  but 
especially  sunshiny.  The  ripples  of  the  lazy  old  river 
were  bright  and  merry  in  the  warm,  clear  beams  of  the 
morning  sun ;  the  banks  of  the  river,  in  their  evergreen 
garb,  were  laughing  through  the  tears  of  last  night's  dew, 
and  thrusting  forward  bouquets  of  the  most  gorgeous  flowers, 
some  of  them  golden-hued  as  the  sun  himself — their  tribute 
to  his  loving  majesty.  The  early  birds  were  all  cawing,  chir- 
ruping, and  twittering,  for  his  first  beams  had  penetrated  their 
little  hearts,  and  made  them  beat  thus  audibly  for  joy — and 
certainly  there  was  sunshine  in  our  hearts  too,  as  we  floated 
so  luxuriously  along,  with  the  bending  river  beckoning  us 
forward  by  new  beauties  at  every  turn ;  and  the  cool  sea- 
breeze  chasing  us  astern,  while  the  tide,  setting  inward,  did 
all  the  work  of  our  journey,  and  we  had  a  pleasant  suspicion 
that  the  dipping  oars  was  a  mere  accompaniment  thereunto. 
Sunshine  in  our  hearts,  I  say,  for  I  am  sure  it  was  reflected 
plainly  enough  outwardly  upon  our  faces,  as  we  sailed  so 
blithe  and  merrily  up  the  Chagres  river. 

Morning  on  the  rivtr !  It  was  as  fresh  and  vivid  in  its 
coloring,  as  if  that  very  morning  was  the  first  since  the 
world  rose  up  purified  from  the  deluge.  Its  breath  was  as 
pure  and  sweet  as  if  the  forgiving  angel  had  but  just  then 
breathed  over  it,  while  he  pronounced  its  future  everlasting 


126  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

exemption  from  the  external  visitings  of  its  Creator's  wrath. 
There  is  no  land — only  trees,  and  creeping  vines,  and  long 
wavang  streamers,  and  strangely  twisted  boughs,  that  seem  to 
have  root  nowhere,  but  in  a  grotesquely  sportive  mood,  to 
have  flung  themselves  into  the  heaps  of  verdure,  and  there 
lain  saucily  ever  afterwards  ;  and  such  great  hanging  bunches 
of  the  misletoe  and  inoss,  with  red  and  yellow  leaves  of 
flowers,  asking  only  such  a  little  place  to  look  up  from 
towards  the  sun.  And  overhead  there  is  no  sky,  but  a 
deep  sea  of  ever-deepening  azure,  where  the  lordly  sun  him- 
self, without  whose  presence  this  world  of  beauty  would  not 
care  to  put  on  its  richest  charms,  is  floating  serenely  upward. 
And  we  feel  our  divinity  stirring  within  us,  for  at  our  will 
we  move  onward,  and  leave  behind  us  this  other  form  of 
God,  which  has  no  will  or  power  to  follow.  Truly,  if  in 
crowded  cities  man  feels  so  bitterly  his  miserable  insignifi- 
cance, here  in  the  plenitude  of  nature's  realms,  where  his 
heart  beats  full  and  responsive  to  every  breath  of  her  ex- 
quisite harmony,  and  his  eye  gives  beauty  to  her  every 
feature,  and  yet  his  will  is  there  to  say  how  long  this  dal- 
liance shall  last ;  here  he  feels  that  there  is  nothing  wanting 
but  a  child-like  obedience  and  faith,  to  become  so  very 
great — almost  a  part  of  God,  and  accept  the  earth,  even  as 
it  was  meant  to  be  his  to  beautify,  and  love,  and  bless. 

The  picture  of  that  morning  on  the  river  is  painted  in 
unfading  colors,  and  framed  and  hung  away  in  one  of  the 
chambers  of  my  memory,  and  I  shall  never  look  upon  it  but 
with  pleasant  associations.  Hour  after  hour  rolled  languidly, 
but  not  heavily  away,  and  still  we  floated  onward.  The 
first  flush  of  excitement  passed  off",  and  we  saw  things  in  a 
clearer  point  of  view.  There  we  were,  creeping  along,  our 
seven  barges  close  up  under  the  left  bank  of  the  river,  some- 
times even  shooting  in  beneath  the  over-reaching  branches 


CHAGHES  RIVER.  127 

of  great  trees,  and  sailing  for  a  rod  or  two,  as  it  Avere,  in  the 
shadow  of  a  rustic  arbor,  and  a  moment  afterwards  obhged 
to  sheer  out  towards  the  middle  of  the  stream,  to-  avoid  some 
decayed  and  fallen  trunk.  There  was  a  presentiment  in  our 
minds,  too,  as  of  another  boat  skirmishing  on  our  right 
flank,  now  dashing  by  us  at  an  alarming  rate,  and  now  drift- 
ing like  a  log,  and  allowing  us  to  come  up  with  it — a  huge 
canoe  manned  by  natives,  and  freighted  as  it  seemed  to  us 
with  our  old  comrades — Judge  Smithers,  Colonel  Allen, 
J^onsieur  Crapolet,  and  Thorn  (for  it  seemed  that  Mr.  Arthur 
Orrington  was  somehow  not  amongst  them).  Between  this 
boat  and  ours  there  was  quite  a  frequency  of  communication. 
Articles  of  trifling  value,  such  as  eggs,  oranges,  and  the  like, 
were  occasionally  thrown  to  and  fro  ;  but  the  great  feature 
in  this  friendly  intercourse  seemed  to  be  the  passing  of  a 
bottle,  attached  to  the  end  of  a  stick,  which  idea  I  think 
originated  with  the  other  boat,  and  which,  however  incon- 
venient it  at  first  appeared,  was  attended  with  very  cheerful 
results.  There  was,  likewise,  a  suspicion  in  our  minds  that 
one  of  the  native  boatmen,  in  the  other  boat,  who  had,  in 
the  excitement  of  the  moment,  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to 
take  off"  his  shirt,  was  uttering  something  every  now  and 
then,  which  he  meant  for  music.  It  would  have  been  very 
dreadful  at  any  other  time,  but  we  were  all  so  pleasantly 
disposed  that  we  merely  stopped  our  ears  and  laughed,  and 
tried  to  think  of  something  else.  After  the  gymnastic  ex- 
ercise of  the  bottle  had  been  gone  through  with  to  consider- 
able extent,  the  Colonel  in  the  other  boat  made  himself 
rather  disagreeable,  by  shouting  at  intervals,  each  time  in  a 
difi'erent  tone  of  voice,  "  Go  it,  ye  camels  !"  evidently  con- 
founding that  expression  in  his  mind  with  the  popular 
phrase  of  "  go  it,  ye  cripples." 

Noon  came.    It  was  hard  now  to  avoid  the  sun's  search- 


128  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

mg  glances,  though  we  crept  ever  so  close  under  the  river's 
bank.  Alligators  were  now  and  then  seen  stretched  sleepily 
out  to  bask,  in  his  beams  ;  and  once  we  saw  a  cold,  slimy- 
looking  serpent  come  up  out  of  the  water  and  go  winding 
and  twisting  in  among  the  mangrove  bushes  of  the  shore. 
Ugh  1  how  loathsome  and  snaky  did  he  look.  We  began 
to  be  tired  of  sitting  so  long  in  our  boat,  although  there  was 
often  a  breeze  which,  sweeping  over  the  river,  and  whistling 
in  beneath  our  awning,  caused  a  delicious  coolness.  About 
the  middle  of  the  forenoon  we  had  passed  a  bit  of  a  clearing 
where  were  a  few  native  ranches,  and  a  row  of  cocoa-nut 
trees  on  the  river's  margin  ;  but  we  did  not  go  on  shore 
there,  although  the  occupants  of  the  otlier  boat  did,  and 
Colonel  Allen  was  a  shade  more  boisterous  afterwards.  The 
conduct  of  Monsieur  Crapolet  during  that  morning  reminded 
me  of  Major  Monsoon  in  Charles  O'Malley,  and  "  what  be- 
tween a  little  sleep  and  a  little  something  to  drink,"  I  have 
no  doubt  that  the  time  passed  very  pleasantly  with  him. 
V  AH  of  a  sudden  we  found  ourselves  at  Gatun,  a  filthy,  insig- 
nificant little  hamlet  of  some  half  a  hundred  huts.  Here  we 
disembarked,  and  having  picked  our  w-ay  up  the  bank,  and 
selected  a  vacant  lot.  Monsieur  Crapolet  and  Thom  set  to 
work  installing  the  cooking-stove  and  its  never-fiuling  ac- 
companiment, the  black  curtain. 

"  Gatun,"  said  Colonel  Allen,  whom  we  found  planted  in 
about  the  centre  of  the  place  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
repeating  to  himself^  as  if  reading  from  a  geographical  school- 
book  ;  "  a  small  village  situated  on  the  banks  of  Chagres 
river,  famous  for  the  healthy  state  of  the  vegetation  by 
•which  it  is  surrounded." 

And  the  Colonel  had  got  its  measure  pretty  correctly.  I 
am  not  aware  that  there  is  any  particular  department  of 
industry  in  which  its  inhabitants  excel,  except  that  of  smok- 


CHAGRES  RIVER.  129 

ing.  All  who  were  not  cooking  or  eating,  were  smoking 
during  our  stay,  at  all  events  ;  but  it  may  be  that  they  never 
work  laboriously  during  the  heat  of  the  day.  The  interior 
of  their  huts  was  very  similar  to  those  of  Chagres,  a  box  or 
two  less,  perhaps,  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  persons  to 
sit  down,  a  greater  quantity  of  jerked  beef  strung  along 
under  the  eaves,  some  bunches  of  corn,  a  hammock,  a  couple 
of  dry  hides,  a  shelf  containing  bottles  and  small  glasses,  an 
iron  kettle  on  the  ground  tioor,  a  notched  pole  for  a  stair- 
case to  the  attic  chambers,  a  boat  j^addle  or  two,  several 
piccaninnies  of  both  sexes  in  a  state  of  blissful  nudity,  from 
one  to  half-a-dozen  women  in  white  cotton  dresses,  profusely 
adoa-ned  with  ruffles  and  flounces,  and  a  full-grown  member 
of  the  male  sex,  the  extreme  scantiness  of  whose  attire  re- 
minded one  of  the  costume  of  a  Georgia  Major — "  a  shirt 
collar  and  a  pair  of  spurs." 

There  was  a  sprinkling  of  domestic  animals  about  the  set- 
tlement :  a  few  cows,  several  raw-looking  pigs,  and  an  end- 
less quantity  of  hairless  dogs,  for,  as  Tom  maliciously  ob- 
served, no  Connecticut  provision  dealer  had  as  yet  thought 
it  worth  his  while  to  estabHsh  a  factory  at  that  place.  There 
was  an  American  hotel  at  Gatun,  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town, 
above  us  on  the  river,  which  hotel  was  a  piece  of  tarred  can- 
vas set  up  on  poles.  There  was  a  tree  in  front,  and  the  un- 
fortunate proprietor  had  caused  a  large  lantern  to  be  rigged 
thereunto,  which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  illuminating  at  night, 
as  a  kind  of  ignis  fataus  for  imwary  travellers.  About  ton 
people  could  stand  in  the  shade  of  this  tent  when  the  sun  was 
not  directly  overhead  ;  but  during  a  heavy  rain,  I  think  not 
more  than  half  that  number  could  find  protection.  This  was 
the  only  house  of  consequence  in  the  place. 

We  had  quite  a  laugh  at  a  little  incident  which  occurred 
as  we  were  on  our  way  back  to  dinner,  in  which  Colonel 

6* 


130  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

Allen  was  one  of  the  performers.  A  particularly  stupid- 
looking  native,  who  was  sitting  at  the  door  of  a  ranche,  and 
had  been  for  some  time  regarding  us  all  in  a  sleepy  sort  of 
way,  at  length  rose  and  made  his  way  towards  Allen,  as  if 
he  had  been  revolving  some  enterprise  in  his  mind,  and  had 
finally  pitched  upon  his  man.  By  a  variety  of  energetic 
signs,  he  gave  Allen  to  understand  that  he  wished  to 
see  him  at  his  house.  We  all  accompanied  the  Colonel, 
prepared  to  stand  by  him  to  the  last.  The  native  entered  first, 
and  going  to  a  corner  of  the  room,  produced  an  umbrella,  a 
very  shaky  and  shabby  affair,  which  he  exhibited  to  the 
Colonel,  making  signs  for  him  to  open  it,  and  repeating 
eagerly  "  no  quiera  comprar  ?  no  quiera  comprar  ?"  "  The 
subscriber"  was  quite  dumb-foundered.  Even  the  native  saw 
in  him  the  unmistakable  signs  of  a  dilapidated  gentleman. 
That  particular  umbrella  alone  was  wanting  to  complete  the 
picture. 

Afternoon,  and  again  upon  the  river.  Hour  after  hour, 
floating  amid  the  same  wealth  of  vegetation,  but  in  how 
many  thousand  difterent  forms.  And  the  sun — what  a 
frisky  sun  he  was  during  that  afternoon — now  right  ahead, 
settling  gradually  down  behind  a  high  mountain,  now 
on  our  right  hand,  again  on  our  left,  and  pretty  soon  looking 
straight  at  our  boat's  stern,  from  above  a  broad  range  of  forest 
directly  in  our  wake.  We  had  a  small  shower  of  rain 
towards  sundown,  and  the  refreshed  air  with  which  every 
leaf,  and  shrub,  and  tree  within  sight,  lifted  up  its  head,  and 
stood  erect  afterwards,  made  me  think  of  a  great  caravan  or 
a  vast  army  in  the  desert,  worn,  and  dusty,  and  ready 
to  feiint,  coming  suddenly  to  quench  their  thirst  at  an  oasis. 
There  was  the  same  marked  appearance  of  relief  and  elasti- 
city in  every  minutest  part  as  in  the  general  whole. 

And  at  length  twilight  came,  and  we  were  still  upon  the 


C  HAG  RES  RIVER.  131 

Mver.  The  sun  was  already  gone  down,  and  the  river  and 
its  banks  wore  a  darkened  melancholy  aspect.  We  rolled 
up  our  awning,  and  watched  from  afar  the  coming  of 
the  starry  evening.  The  air  was  getting  heavy  with  the 
night  dew,  and  it  was  quite  cosy  and  comfortable  to  draw 
out  our  greatcoats  and  shawls  for  protection  from  it.  A 
different  species  of  birds  from  those  we  saw  in  the 
morning,  were  now  heard  warbling  among  the  bushes ;  but 
when  one  flew  across  the  stream,  we  could  only  see  its 
graceful  winged  form,  but  nothing  of  its  variegated  plumes. 
And  as  the  darkness  deepened,  the  lesser  lights  of  heaven 
began  to  twinkle  over-head,  and  the  broad  river  looked  black 
except  where  at  times  there  w^as  a  silvery  ripple  on  its 
bosom,  and  the  sea  of  foliage  on  either  side  was  a  dark 
rolling  mass.  Often  it  looked  as  if  we  were  approaching  the 
termination  of  the  stream,  for  the  banks  ahead  seemed 
to  meet,  as  if  it  were  an  inland  lake  on  which  we  sailed, 
until  we  reached  the  next  sharp  bend,  when  lo  1  a  long 
stretch  of  dark  silent  water,  terminating  as  before  in  a 
sombre  and  apparently  impassable  wall. 

It  was  real  comfort  to  see  the  Major  during  that  day's 
sail.  One  could  not  help  feeling  some  eftects  of  the  enthu- 
siasm which  momentarily  broke  away  from  him,  enveloping 
him  as  in  a  magnetic  sphere.  He  knew  every  winged  form 
that  presented  itself  to  our  view,  though  many  of  them  he 
doubtless  saw  for  the  first  time.  And  while  he  revelled  in 
intense  appreciation  of  each  and  all  of  those  glorious  expres- 
sions of  mother  nature,  his  little  wife,  with  her  inspired  pencil, 
fastened  them,  all  aglow  as  they  were  with  verdant  and  rosy 
life,  upon  the  pages,  to  which,  "  in  after  years,  if  solitude,  or 
fear,  or  pain,  or  grief,  should  be  his  portion,"'  he  might  turn 
tor  sweetest  consolation. 

A  splash  in  the  water  alongside  of  the  other  boat,  and 


132  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

almost  instantaneously  afterwards  a  much  heavier  splash,  and 
the  huge  black  canoe  has  ceased  its  progress,  allowing  us 
to  come  alongside. 

"  What's  broke  ?"  inquired  Tom. 

"  This  miserable  sinner  of  a  Frenchman,"  replied  Colonel 
Allen,  in  a  thick  tone  of  voice,  suggestive  of  "  railroad-pud- 
ding" or  "  steerage-fare,"  "  by  his  awkward  manner  of 
assuaging  the  pangs  of  thirst,  has  knocked  one  of  the  sub- 
scriber's pistols  into  the  river." 

"  The  sulscriber,"  be  it  here  remarked,  had  been  some- 
what more  quiet  vocally,  since  leaving  Gatin,  but  had 
acquired  instead  a  very  unpleasant  as  well  as  dangerous 
habit  of  discharging  his  pistols  about  every  other  minute.  It 
appeared  that  the  second  plunge  was  taken  by  one  of  the 
native  boatmen  diving  after  the  lost  weapon,  which  he  pre- 
sently reappeared  with,  and  we  continued  our  journey. 

About  an  hour  afterwards,  on  turning  a  bend  in  the  river, 
■we  saw  looming  through  the  darkness  on  our  left  hand, 
another  of  those  great  delusive  lanterns,  which  intimated 
that  another  American  hotel  was  somewhere  in  the  vicinity. 
This  place,  which  contained  likewise  several  native  ranches, 
and  had  quite  steep  and  slippery  banks,  was  Dos  Hermanas, 
distant  from  Chagres  about  twenty  miles. 

The  other  boat  was  in  before  us.  When  we  had  landed, 
I  noticed  that  Colonel  Allen  and  Monsieur  Crapolet  remain- 
ed on  board  of  their  craft,  and  that  the  latter  gentleman  was 
stretched  at  full  length  upon  the  baggage,  apparently  taking 
a  little  repose,  while  the  former  leaned  upon  his  arm,  and  in 
a  confused  kind  of  way  appeared  to  be  looking  about  in 
quest  of  adventures. 

"  Asleep  ?"  said  I,  pointing  to  Monsieur  Crapolet.  "  No," 
replied  Colonel  Allen,  "  knocked  down  by  a  squall ;  the 
subscriber,  ditto — can  you  lend  the  aforesaid  half  a  dollar  V* 

Alas !  &c. 


DOS  HERMAN  AS.  133 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

DOS   HERMANAS. 

CHAGRES  fever  is  the  meanest  of  all  diseases.  At  least 
so  said  Tom,  on  the  evening  of  our  arrival  at  Dos  Her- 
manas,  and  as  he  was,  at  the  time,  fairly  in  its  clutches, 
his  observation  on  the  subject  ought  certainly  to  be  entitled 
to  credit.  No  sooner  were  we  arrived  under  the  canvas  of 
the  American  Hotel,  and  seated  on  the  empty  candle  and 
claret  boxes  which  served  in  lieu  of  chairs  at  that  establish- 
ment, than  the  premonitory  chill  began.  At  the  same  time 
a  perfect  torrent  of  water  descended,  beating  furiously  upon 
our  roof,  as  if  the  Isthmus,  and  especially  that  part  of  it 
known  as  Dos  Hermanas,  had  somehow  been  overlooked  in 
the  post-diluvian  promise  that  the  world  should  be  destroyed 
by  flood  no  more. 

We  were  as  yet  supperless.  Storm  and  darkness  were 
reigning  out  of  doors,  that  is  figuratively  out  of  doors,  but 
really  all  around  us,  for  the  four  tallow  candles  which  stood 
upon  the  board  at  the  bar,  and  the  other  board  where  a  re- 
past was  to  be  served  for  us,  gave  out  just  glimmer  enough  to 
enlighten  us  vaguely  as  to  our  miserable  position.  All  of  us 
were  tired,  chilled  and  wet ;  separated  from  our  boats  by  a 
blind,  slippery  path,  and  one  of  us  with  the  Chagres  fever.  A 
truly  delightful  situation  !  Who  wouldn't  be  weary  of  the  mo- 
notonies of  home  when  such  piquant  adventures  can  be  had  at 
almost  any  time  of  year,  after  only  ten  days'  steaming  from 
New  York ! 


134  LJFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

But  as  I  was  saying  Cbagres  fever  is  the  meanest  of 
diseases.  It  has  a  sly,  snaky  way  of  making  its  approaches, 
and  falls  upon  one  at  last  like  a  serpent,  enveloping  and 
crushing  him  in  its  cold,  sweaty  folds.  It  makes  a  man  feel 
pitifully  mean,  crouching  under  his  blankets,  and  drawing 
towards  the  fire  like  an  antiquated  hulk,  or  to  use  another 
phrase  of  Tom's,  "  like  a  sick  kitten  to  a  hot  brick."  It  is  in 
one  respect  like  sea-sickness  or  ghosts,  no  one  believes  in  it 
till  it  touches  him  with  its  chilly  finger.  It  lays  its  hand 
upon  him,  and  how  far  oft'  and  unattainable  seem  the  prizes 
of  life,  the  pomp  and  honors  of  the  world  !  He  feels  as  if  he 
had  been  guilty  of  turpitude  to  allow  himself  to  be  caught 
thus,  and  forced  to  be  a  sluggard,  while  others  are  so  bravely 
at  work  all  around.  He  is  like  a  wounded  man  on  the  field 
of  battle,  turned  over  to  the  care  of  old  women,  while  his 
gallant  comrades  press  on  and  bear  away  the  palm. 

Tom's  case,  however,  was  a  very  light  one,  and  it  is  due 
to  him  to  say  that  he  bore  the  affliction  like  a  philosopher. 
We  wrapped  him  well  in  blankets,  and  placed  him  upon  the 
second  cot  of  a  tier  which  were  planted  in  the  rear  of  the 
bar,  in  order  that  the  first  might  get  the  primary  advantage 
of  the  drops  of  rain  which  trickled  through  the  roof.  He 
observed  ])leasantly,  as  we  left  him  for  a  moment  to  take 
some  refreshment,  that  when  his  tea  was  ready  he  would 
have  it  hot  and  without  milk.  This  idea  of  Tom's  was  not 
original.  He  obtained  it  from  a  work  entitled  "A  Guide 
across  the  Isthmus  of  Panama,"  wherein,  among  other 
things,  the  author  perpetrates  a  cruel  joke  in  advising  all 
emigrants  to  California  to  abstain  from  milk  while  crossing 
the  Isthmus.  I  wonder  that  this  imaginative  writer  did  not 
likewise  caution  them  against  too  free  an  indulgence  in  por- 
ter-house steaks  or  nightingales'  tongue?. 

The  reader  will  be  pleased  to  imagine  us  at  table  in  the 


DOS  HERMANAS.  135 

dining-hall  of  this  American  Hotel.  The  board  has  been 
removed  down  towards  the  lee  side,  and  the  rain  which  beats 
in  through  and  under  the  canvas  to  windward,  is  only  dis- 
agreeable to  us  from  the  fact  that  it  has  caused  a  large 
puddle  of  water  to  locate  in  the  immediate  neighborhood 
of  our  feet.  But  what  care  we  for  the  howling  storm  with- 
out, while  seated  at  the  festive  board,  spread  with  all  the 
luxuries  and  delicacies  of  the  season,  ham,  beans,  salt  mackerel, 
certain  messes  suggestive  of  a  previous  repast,  resembling  in 
the  fragmentary  parts  of  which  they  are  made  up  what 
sailors  term  "  lobscouse"  and  "  dundy  funk,"  and  for  vegetables 
and  bread,  what  the  same  roving  and  rough-spoken  class 
call,  "  hard  tack  I"  In  the  way  of  drink,  a  very  bitter  and 
black  kind  of  cofiee,  and  a  scurvy  mixture  which  I  think  the 
middle-aged  gentleman  Avho  waited  upon  us  said  was  tea, 
although  the  question  had  not  been  asked  by  any  one.  The 
appearance  of  the  cloth  made  one  think  that  parties  who 
liad  been  used  to  the  plains  and  did  not  understand  the 
relative  position  of  the  plates,  and  knives,  and  forks,  to  the 
food  before  them,  had  been  along  that  way,  and  kept  up  their 
old  bivouacking  habits.  But  I  do  not  recollect  that  we  saw 
anything  worthy  of  remark  in  all  this,  and  I  don't  think  we 
should,  if  in  lieu  of  half  a  score  of  pigs  which  navigated 
quite  freely  among  the  shoals  of  our  legs,  there  had  been  the 
same  quantity  of  tapirs.  The  truth  of  the  matter  is,  that  our 
moist  and  steaming  condition  was  highly  favorable  to  the 
generation  of  appetite,  and  without  any  unseasonable  display 
of  fastidiousness  we  drew  up  our  candle-boxes  and  fell  to, 
men,  women,  and  children.  I  remember  now  that  one  of 
the  ladies,  on  elevating  a  dish  towards  her  olfactories,  was 
rebuked  by  the  middle-aged  gentleman  in  attendance,  who 
observed  that  they  did  not  keep  a  Graham  hotel,  and  the 
victuals  were  placed  there  to  be  eaten  and  not  smelt  of.'    I 


136  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

cannot  now  say  as  to  whether  this  remark  M'as  made  crustily 
or  humorously. 

When  we  had  finished  eating,  it  seems  as  if  I  ought  to 
say  when  we  had  been  sufficiently  fed,  we  began  gradually 
to  realize  that  it  had  cleared  off ;  we"  drew  out  towards  an 
opening  in  the  canvas,  and  lo  !  a  picture  of  serenest,  freshest 
beauty  met  our  view  ;  those  primeval  forests  on  the  further 
bank,  rising  up  from  their  bath  in  the  clear  moonshine,  and 
the  river,  not  dark  and  sombre  now,  but  circling  and  wind- 
ing in  among  the  nooks  and  bends,  like  a  silvery  band  of 
vapor,  such  as  one  often  sees  near  the  base  of  mountains  in  the 
early  dawn  ;  while  around  us  at  Dos  Hernianas,  the  cleared 
bluff  with  its  rounded  embankments,  and  its  venerable 
mango  and  cocoa-nut  trees,  scattered  in  little  groups  upon 
its  surface,  was  just  one  of  those  charming  spots  where  old 
Kit  North  would  have  delighted  to  come  and  lie  down  in  at 
the  gloaming ;  and  above  us,  what  troops  of  stars  were 
clustered  at  their  posts,  while  the  rising  moon  came  slowly 
,  up,  filling  the  whole  heavens  with  their  glistening  presence, 
save  where  here  and  there  "  a  sable  cloud"  was  seen  to  "  turn 
forth  its  silver  lining  on  the  night ;"  the  very  air  partook  of 
the  genial  spirit  of  the  scene,  and  was  odorous  with  the 
tribute  of  flowers  and  blossoms  far  beyond  our  ken.  It  was 
a  scene  to  arouse  none  but  good  and  tranquillizing  emotions, 
and  yet  here,  as  we  had  been  told,  with  these  very  surround- 
ings, only  two  evenings  jjrevious,  revenge  had  wrought  out 
its  hellish  purpose  in  the  murder  of  a  brother. 

We  were  shown  the  place  where  the  deed  was  done — a 
native  hut,  a  few  rods  from  our  hotel.  We  were  further  in- 
formed by  our  middle-aged  gentleman  that  the  murderer  had 
been  taken  there,  sitting  beside  the  corpse  and  asking  frantically 
of  the  lifeless  clay  for  his  sister,  who  was  supposed  to  have 
left  Chagres  in  company  with  him  who  was  now  no  more ; 


DOS  HERMANAS.  137 

that  he  had  gone  ofl'  passively  with  the  party  who  arrested 
him,  and  neither  avowed  nor  denied  the  act.  We  inquired  if 
the  French  gentleman  who  had  been  murdered  had  anything 
of  much  value  about  his  person,  but  our  informant  was  not 
able  to  enlighten  us  upon  that  subject.  He  had  no  doubt 
of  Villi's  guilt — not  a  bit  of  it,  there  was  no  one  else  about 
except  a  friend  of  the  deceased,  who  had  been  the  means  of 
arresting  Vitti,  and  had  accompanied  him  back  to  Chagres. 
So  much  for  the  report  of  our  middle-aged  gentleman,  who, 
like  most  of  our  acquaintances  of  that  period,  is  now  himself 
defunct. 

I  might  go  on  to  describe  our  visit  to  the  Frenchman's 
rude  grave,  where  he  lay,  poor  fellow,  far  enough  away  from 
his  ancestral  halls ;  but,  to  confess  the  truth,  I  am  a  little 
ashamed  of  my  murder  scene ;  and  were  it  not  that,  as  a 
faithful  delineator  of  facts,  I  have  felt  myself  bound  to  intro- 
duce it,  should  have  cautiously  avoided  it  altogether.  It 
may  be,  even  now,  that  some  hypercritical  reader  may  credit 
the  writer's  fancy  with  this  portion  of  his  narrative ;  for, 
since  the  moment  when  the  English  Opium  Eater  classed 
murder  as  among  the  Fine  Arts,  it  is  unfortunately  associated 
in  the  minds  of  many  with  something  like  romance. 

And  now  that  I  am  upon  this  subject,  I  will  further  say, 
■what  I  omitted  in  its  j^roper  place,  that  on  that  same  morn- 
ing when  our  barges  were  rowing  out  from  the  muddy  stream 
that  flows  by  Chagres,  on  its  southern  boundary,  we  observed 
a  crowd  of  people  collected  about  the  house  of  the  Consul 
on  the  American  side,  and  learnt,  upon  inquiry,  that  Vitti 
was  there  in  custody,  having  been  brought  down  the  river 
on  the  evening  previous.  I  felt  the  mean  sensation  of  a  man 
deserting  a  friend  in  need,  when  I  sufiered  our  barge  to  pro- 
ceed up  the  stream  without  a  word  of  protest.  Perhaps  to 
my  intense  desire  to  help  him,  I  had  no  idea  how ;   and  to 


138  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

unravel  something  of  this  hon-ible  mystery,  t'ur  my  own  satis- 
faction, may  be  attributed,  in  part  at  least,  the  expedition 
which  I  shortly  afterwards  undertook.  And  now  to  my 
nan-ative  again. 

Tom  was  progressing  beautifully  with  his  affair ;  the  chill 
was  off,  and  he  was  in  a  charming  state  of  fever.  The  Major 
and  I  held  a  consultation  together,  and  we  came  to  the  con- 
clusion to  treat  him  allopathically  with  calomel  and  quinine; 
although  the  Major,  when  the  proper  leisure  and  appliances 
were  at  hand,  was  most  decidedly  hydropathic. 

"  There  is  one  difficulty  in  the  way,"  said  I — ''  we  have  no 
medicine." 

"  Perhaps  the  proprietor  has  some,"  suggested  the  Major. 

No  ;  he  denied  the  charge  emphatically  ;  although  I  have 
no  doubt  that  he  had  a  lai'ge  quantity,  but  had  no  idea  of 
allowing  the  fact  to  become  public.  I  was  sure  that  the 
other  boat  had  none  without  asking,  as  its  passengers  kept 
themselves  in  a  wholesome  state  of  preservation  by  quite 
another  method. 

While  we  were  talking  on  this  subject,  and  Tom  was 
making  believe  that  he  was  somewhere  in  a  city  where  it  was 
a  real  pleasure  to  be  ill,  by  asking  one  of  us  occasionally  to 
look  out  of  the  window,  and  tell  him  what  was  going  on  in  the 
street,  and  if  the  grocery  store  opposite  and  the  apothecary's 
on  the  corner  were  yet  open,  or  to  read  him  something  funny 
from  the  evening  paper,  a  man  came  into  the  hotel,  who 
said,  he  was  an  express-man,  and  had  arrived  at  Chagres  at 
about  two  P.  M.  in  the  steamship  Falcon.  lie  also  informed 
the  proprietor  that  the  Falcon  was  to  leave,  on  her  return, 
the  next  morning,  at  eight  o'clock. 

At  this  piece  of  information,  the  Major  suddenly  rose  up, 
and  took  me  earnestly  aside.  "  See  here,"  said  he,  "  it  is  a 
fine  night.     Would  it  not  be  worth  while  for  some  of  us  to 


DOS  HERMAN  AS.  139 

return  to  Chagres,  and  provide  ourselves  Avith  a  stock  of 
medicine  ?  We  can  lie  over  here  till  to-morrow  afternoon, 
if  required.  This  appears  to  be  a  ticklish  climate,  and  there 
is  no  calculating  upon  the  health  of  any  one.  This,  however, 
is  not  the  principal  thing  which  I  have  to  propose.  Our 
women  folks,  as  you  know,  have  already  exceeded  their 
license  in  getting  thus  far  on  the  Isthmus,  the  understanding 
having  been,  all  along,  that  they  were  to  return  home  from 
Chagres.  Now,  from  what  we  have  already  seen,  I  am 
satistied  that  this  is  no  country  for  women  and  children  to 
enjoy  themselves  particularly  in ;  and  if  taken  sick  here,  the 
attentions  which  they  will  require  will  cramp  our  movements, 
if  no  more  serious  results  follow.  I  would  therefore  propose 
that  they  go  down  to  Chagres  with  one  of  us  to-night,  and 
take  passage  on  the  Falcon,  which,  we  learn,  leaves  early  in 
the  morning.  They  will,  no  doubt,  object  quite  resolutely ; 
but  it  is  their  good  as  well  as  ours  which  demands  it,  as  it 
seems  to  me." 

\MiHt  one  feels  most  strongly  is  not  always  most  easily 
described.  I  shall  therefore  pass  over  the  discussion  which 
ensued  upon  this  sudden  but  prudent  proposition  of  the 
Major's.  There  was  considerable  skirmishing  in  words  half 
playful,  half  earnest — perhaps,  too,  some  tears ;  but  it  was 
finally  settled.  Our  wills  were  forced  to  consent  to  what 
circumstances  made  necessary,  and  the  dear  companions  of 
our  previous  toils  and  pleasures  were  to  leave  us.  I  was 
appointed  to  accompany  them,  and  see  them  safely  embarked 
on  board  the  steamer,  while  the  Major  remained  to  take  caro 
of  Tom. 

The  little  business  transaction  which  we  soon  afterwards 
had  with  the  characters  of  the  other  boat  was  by  no  means  a 
diflScult  one.  We  were  to  have  the  native  canoe  for  our 
return  to  Chagres,  and  they  were  to  come  into  our  barge  for 


140  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

the  remainder  of  the  water  route.  "We  accordingly  made 
the  necessary  transfer  of  baggage,  under  which  head  Monsieur 
Crapolet  was  classed  for  the  time  being ;  the  natives  not  only 
conseutiug  to  the  exchange,  but,  having  received  half  their 
charter  money  in  advance,  and  knowing  that  one  steamer 
was  just  arrived  at  Chagres,  and  another  momentarily  due, 
for  once  in  their  lives  rose  superior  to  the  "  poco  tiempo " 
doctrine,  and  became  quite  efficient  men. 

I  was  a  little  amused  at  a  characteristic  remark  of  Allen's, 
as  he  settled  himself  into  the  stern  sheets  of  our  barge. 
"  Well,"  said  he,  half  sighing,  with  the  air  of  an  extremely 
foggy  philosopher,  "  variety  is  charming.  When  the  sub- 
scriber is  at  home,  he  always  takes  brandy  and  water  in  the 
morning,  with  a  bit  of  lemon  and  sugar  in  it,  brandy  punch 
in  the  afternoon,  and  hot  brandy  punch  in  the  evening." 


A  NIGHT  ON  THE  RIVER.  141 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


A    NIGHT    ON   THE    RIVER. 


WHAT  with  "  more  last  words,"  and  good-byes,  and  God's 
blessings  called  down  in  showers  upon  us  all  by  turns, 
and  shifting  of  baggage,  and  sundry  lockings  round  to  see 
that  everything  was  right  and  nothing  forgotten,  it  was  near 
midnight  when  we  were  quite  ready.  We  had  hardly  got 
adrift,  when  one  of  those  pleasant  little  showers,  so  suggestive 
of  violets  and  columbines  in  our  spring-time  at  home,  came 
pattering  upon  our  boat  and  baggage,  with  a  small  sample 
upon  our  own  persons,  for  we  were  but  partially  protected 
by  an  awning  of  palm  leaves — and  on  the  still,  swift-running 
river  alongside.  It  was  impossible  to  say  where  it  came 
from,  for  there  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  star-studded  sky,  if  we 
except,  indeed,  a  sort  of  fleecy  gauze-like  shadow  of  the  same 
which  went  drifting  slowly  by  us  overhead,  just  such  an  apo- 
logy as  one  often  sees  during  a  long  drought,  when  all  signs 
fail.  Nevertheless,  there  was  the  positive  fact — rain ;  and 
as  we  did  not  see  the  necessity  of  getting  wet,  though  it  was 
done  ever  so  mysteriously,  we  drew  in  alongside  of  a  small 
steamer  which  was  puffing  and  blowing  at  the  river's  bank, 
as  if  it  had  just  arrived,  and  had  had  a  hard  time  of  it. 

There  was  about  the  usual  assortment  of  gold-seekers  on 
her  quarter-deck,  keeping  guard  over  an  immensity  of  what 
the  western  people  call  "  plunder,"  which  was  made  up  iu 
this  case  of  every  variety  of  trunk,  chest,  bag,  and  box,  with 


142  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

not  a  few  greasy-looking  brown  paper  parcels,  suggestive  of 
lunch.  Contrary  to  the  regulations  of  most  steamers,  "smok- 
ing abaft  the  engine"  was  permitted  on  board  of  this  boat, 
and  the  atmosphere  was  quite  hazy  in  consequence.  There 
were  some  muffled  people  in  shawls  and  bonnets,  dimly  seen 
amidst  the  clearings  of  the  smoke,  whom  we  should  have 
taken  for  women,  had  not  their  nether  extremities  been  en- 
cased in  trowsers. 

There  was  a  group  of  Missourians,  from  Pike  County, 
gathered  about  the  gangway,  as  we  boarded,  one  of  whom 
was  telling  a  story  ;  and  a  dapper  little  chap,  with  a  profuse 
gold  watch-guard  and  very  shiny  hair,  who  might  have  been 
a  runner  for  somebody  or  something,  appeared  to  take  great 
interest  in  what  he  said. 

"  Now,"  said  the  Missourian,  "  there  was  old  Pillcott,  and 
he  was  another  customer." 

"  Warn't  he,  though  ?"  said  the  dapper  little  chap,  pre- 
tending to  know  all  about  it ;  "  Billy  Pillcott." 

"  No  ;  Jim,"  said  the  Missourian. 

"  Aye,  true,"  said  the  dapper  little  chap,  "  Jim  Pillcott." 

Most  of  these  people  seemed  to  be  well  acquainted,  and 
called  each  other  by  nicknames  ;  some  by  the  name  of  the 
county  they  hailed  from,  prefixing  the  epithet  "  old  "  there- 
unto, such  as  Old  Pike,  Old  Clay,  and  so  on  ;  others  got 
their  title  from  some  peculiarity  of  dress,  and  were  vocife- 
rously appealed  to  as  "  Bob-tail,"  "  Yaller-breeches,"  or  "  Stee- 
ple-crown." One  poor  fellow  was  quite  unfortunate  in  his 
sobriquet.  He  was  a  cadaverous- faced  man,  and  sat  a  little 
apart  from  the  crowd,  occupied  in  spreading  the  chest  before 
him  with  bread,  cheese,  and  ham.  When  he  had  laid  out 
about  a  supply  for  three,  he  deliberately  rolled  up  his  sleeves, 
brushed  back  his  long  loose  hair,  as  if  he  were  buttoning 
back  his  ears,  and  prepared  to  fall  to.     This  man  was  styled 


A  NIGHT  ON  THE  RIVER.  143 

by  the  crowd  "  Potatoe  Parings,"  and  during  his  repast  was 
frequently  called  upon  "to  throw  himself  away."  "You 
should  have  seen  him'  on  board  the  steamer  coming  down," 
said  one  of  his  admirers  to  me ;  "  Lord,  how  he  would  eat ; 
it  was  like  loading  a  gun.  When  he  came  to  be  sea-sick 
and  throw  up,  we  thought  he  would  bust,  and  it  was  a  won- 
der that  he  didn't,  for  he  was  charged  to  the  muzzle." 

In  the  sternmost  extremity  of  the  deck  was  another  group, 
one  of  whom  was  explaining  that  he  had  just  been  robbed 
of  two  hundred  dollars  in  gold,  and  showed  how  it  had  been 
cut  out  of  his  pocket ;  and  an  excitement  immediately  sprang 
np  amongst  his  auditors  for  arresting  somebody  and  charg- 
ing them  with  the  act ;  and  as  nobody  was  at  hand,  suitable 
for  the  purpose,  but  a  poor  deaf  and  dumb  fellow,  who 
went  by  the  appellation  of  Dummy,  he  was  accordingly  seized 
upon,  and  would  have  been  searched,  notwithstanding  his 
piteous  signs  and  cries,  had  not  Judge  Smithers,  who  was  on 
a  stroll  about  the  premises,  followed  by  Colonel  Allen,  come 
suddenly  on  board,  and  peremptoiily  put  a  stop  to  it,  while 
the  pugnaciously-disposed  Colonel  squared  off  in  the  back- 
ground, and  observed  that  "  Providence  had  not  prevented 
the  subscriber  from  dying  of  cholera  two  years  previous,  that 
he  might  see  a  poor  devil  bamboozled  in  th(it  style  with  im- 
punity." 

Some  were  card-playing,  some  betting  heavily  on  a  sweat 
cloth,  some  indulging  in  an  Ethiopian  melody,  one  man  cut- 
ting out  portraits  in  paper  at  a  dollar  a-piece,  another  deep 
in  the  columns  of  the  last  Herald,  and  two  or  three  eccentric 
individuals  vainly  endeavoring  to  compose  themselves 
to  sleep.  It  was  a  curious  picture  of  life  in  the  rough,  just 
•what  some  of  the  old  Dutch  painters  would  have  delighted 
to  depict.  The  silence  of  the  night,  save  for  the  pattering 
rain  drops ;  the  lonesoraeness  of  the  place,  which  would  have 


144  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

awed  to  silence  a  smaller  or  less  excitable  party ;  the  gi-otesque 
strangeness  of  this  chance  meeting  of  so  many  different  cha- 
racters, yet  bound  together  by  a  secret  chord  of  purpose  and 
sympathy ;  the  pale  light  of  the  moon,  which,  notwithstand- 
ing the  rain,  lay  in  broad  squares  here  and  there  upon  the 
deck,  and  was  the  only  light  by  which  the  characters  of 
the  piece  were  seen,  all  helped  to  give  effect  to  the  striking 
picture. 

As  soon  as  the  rain  was  over  we  were  again  adrift,  float- 
ing midway  down  the  swift  running  current  of  the  stream. 
Its  surface  was  by  no  means  as  smooth  and  tranquil  as  when 
we  ascended,  for  the  heavy  rains  of  the  night  had  made  it 
swollen  and  rough,  and  in  places  where  some  tributary 
mountain  torrent  came  pouring  headlong  in,  was  quite  dan- 
gerous in  its  eddies.  Nevertheless  we  floated  rapidly  along, 
keeping  near  the  middle  of  the  stream,  where  we  had  none 
of  the  counter  current,  and  were  not  exposed  to  contact 
with  boats  coming  up  the  river.  The  clumps  of  thick  grow- 
ing trees,  and  bushes  on  the  banks,  wore  altogether  a  new 
and  peculiar  aspect.  They  took  grand  forms  of  wonderful 
architecture — houses,  castles,  and  broad-fronted  palaces, 
where  the  windows  were  the  openings  in  their  boughs, 
through  which  the  moonlight  shone.  At  times  there  was  a 
long  line  of  steep  but  level  embankment,  which  looked  like 
the  grim  walls  of  a  fort;  and  then  came  the  houses,  castles, 
and  palaces  again.  We  discussed  the  beauties  and  merits  of 
each  new  style  as  it  was  revealed  to  us,  and  afterwards 
wondered  among  ourselves  as  to  the  dwellers  in  these 
strange  dark  habitations.  We  wondered,  if  in  the  silvery 
light  which  pervaded  those  apartments  and  shone  through 
the  windows,  families  were  assembled  in  quiet  comfort  after 
the  rude  day's  toil ;  if  there  was  music  and  literature  in  those 
unseen  circles ;  if  little  children  sat  on  their  father's  knee 


A  NIGHT  ON  THE  RIVER.  145 

whiling  away  bis  thoughts  from  the  hard  world  ;  if  the  light 
and  the  fireside  blaze — for  it  was  chilly  enough  on  the  river 
to  make  us  think  of  that  also — which  had  no  ruddy  glare  in 
them,  but  were  cold  and  silvery,  was  on  tlie  whole  as  genial 
and  comfortable  as  what  our  memories  kept  note  of  two 
thousand  miles  away  ;  if  we  should  go  up  and  knock  at 
the  door  whether  they  admit  us,  and  whether  they  would 
keep  us  standing  in  our  dew-damp  garments  in  the  shivery 
hall,  or  turn  us  over  to  the  servants,  or  introduce  us  at  once 
to  their  own  parlor,  the  more  elderly  looking  affectionately 
upon  us,  while  the  young  should  regard  us  as  invested  with 
a  species  of  romance,  coming  thus  suddenly  in  upon  them 
from  the  rapid,  swollen  river — and  each  should  vie  with  the 
other  to  make  us  so  very  much  at  home. 

Even  while  we  were  discoursing  thus,  and  indulging  our 
playful  fancies,  into  which,  nevertheless,  there  was  woven  a 
pensive  half-melancholy  thread,  the  heavy  rain-clouds  had 
been  gradually  mustering  in  the  sky,  and  the  towers  and 
rounded  domes  and  steeples  of  our  imagined  structures  were 
visibly  losing  their  distinct  outline.  The  surface  of  the  river 
seemed  to  have  acquired  a  fresh  liveliness,  and  the  current 
an  accelerated  course.  We  were  now  in  danger  of  coming 
suddenly  upon  some  bigger  boat,  the  shock  of  which  in 
meeting  might  upset  us ;  and  the  bare  possibility  of  having 
to  struggle  for  life  with  those  dark  troubled  waters,  to  reach 
the  banks  only  for  a  more  fearful  and  loathsome  struggle  with 
the  alligators,  snakes,  or  wild  beasts  of  those  parts,  added 
much  to  the  chilly  discomfort  of  our  position.  In  order  to 
avoid  this  contingency  our  boatmen  began  to  yell  in 
the  most  savage  and  uncouth  manner,  which  made  us  think 
that  they  had  studied  the  music  of  the  prowlers  in  the 
woods,  with  whose  howling  voices  they  had  probably  been 
familiar  from   childhood.     Still  we  went  on,   our  boatmen 


146  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

pulling  vigorously  at  their  oars,  in  the  hope  of  reaching 
Gatun  before  the  worst — while  the  heavens,  and  earth,  and 
"water  darkened  about  us.  Our  helmsman,  who  was  a  tall, 
gaunt  native,  of  the  true  Ethiopian  stamp,  stood  bolt  upright 
in  the  stern,  jabbering  long  sentences  in  a  spiteful  manner, 
as  it  seemed  to  us,  at  the  oarsmen,  at  the  close  of  each  of 
which  they  sent  up  the  unearthly  yell  before  alluded  to. 

And  now  the  rain  began,  a  few  big  drops  first,  and  then, 
as  it  were,  a  continuous  sheet  of  water  falling  bodily  from 
the  sky.  In  such  a  rain  as  this,  on  this  very  river,  boats  have 
filled  with  water  as  caravans  have  been  covered  up  by  sand 
in  the  desert,  and  gone  down  beneath  its  surface,  and  with 
all  their  precious  freight  been  heard  of  no  more.  God  for- 
J  give  us,  we  may  fare  no  better.  Our  boatmen,  however,  are 
K~  in  no  ways  put  out  by  it,  but  pull  vigorously  ahead,  and 
^  occasionally  address  themselves  to  us  and  say,  "  mucha 
^agua,"  something  in  the  same  tone  in  which  one  observes  at 
home  that  it  is  a  fine  day.  When  we  become  very  cold  and 
drenched,  and  are  sure  that  we  are  all  in  the  first  stage  of 
Chagres  fever,  we  ask  them  how  much  farther  to  Gatun,  and 
they  invariably  answer  "  poco  tiempo."  But  the  water  con- 
tinues to  pour  down,  and  there  is  already  a  foot  of  it  in  the 
bottom  of  our  boat,  and  we  are  soaked  through,  and  our 
feet  and  ankles  feel  as  if  made  of  wood,  and  our  boatmen  go 
on  howling,  and  the  river  goes  on  increasing  every  minute  in 
its  rapid  course,  till  we  know  for  a  certainty  that  if  we  should 
strike  a  bigger  boat,  it  will  be  all  over  with  us — and  still  no 
Gatun  !  There  was  one  boat  which  we  passed  lying  under  a 
big  tree  by  the  river's  bank,  which  showed  a  light,  and  hear- 
ing the  howls  of  our  boatmen,  hailed  us  to  know  if  we  were 
going  on.  I  answered  "yes,"  and  a  minute  afterwards  they 
hailed  again  to  say  that  we  were  going  doivn  river,  probably 
thinking  that  we  belonged  to  their  party,  and  had  somehow 


A  NIGHT  ON  THE  RIVER.  147 

got  our  boat  twisted  in  the  darkness.     A  moment  or  two 
afterwards  we  saw  Gatun. 

There  it  was,  quite  another  loohiiig  phice  from  what  it 
was  when  we  left  it  on  the  afternoon  previous.  It  seemed  as 
if  there  were  a  thousand  little  dots  of  light,  floating  station- 
ary in  the  darkness  which  enveloped  it,  and  amongst  them 
all  was  a  larger  light,  which  we  decided  must  emanate  from 
the  lantern  of  the  American  hotel.  Almost  instantaneously 
after  the  first  appearance  of  these  lights,  we  were  there, 
alongside  of  the  bank,  with  some  two  score  of  boats  on  either 
side,  and  such  shouting,  yelling,  blowing  of  horns,  and  other 
instruments,  jabbering  of  natives,  discharging  of  guns  and 
pistols  in  quite  a  promiscuous  manner,  barking  of  dogs,  and 
squealing  of  pigs,  I  never  heard  before.  Truly,  after  our 
lonesome  sail  upon  the  river,  in  "  night,  and  storm,  and 
darkness,"  it  was  quite  refreshing  to  feel  ourselves  again 
surrounded  by  such  an  unterrified  body  of  the  sovereigns  of 
our  native  land.  They  made  the  old  place  redolent  of 
riotous  life  and  fun.  They  were  everywhere  about  the  dig- 
gings— smoking  desperately  in  the  i-ain  half  way  up  the 
bank,  taking  drinks,  and  smoking  in  their  boats ;  others 
strong  in  Goodyear  and  Mackintosh,  preparing  to  go  out 
in  quest  of  adventures,  and  inquiring  of  their  neighbors  in 
the  next  boat,  where  was  the  best- quarter  for  door  bells, 
knockers,  and  barbers'  poles  ;  others  grouped  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  lantern,  in  front  of  the  American  house  ;  and  others 
still  among  the  lesser  lights,  traffioking  with  the  natives,  or 
bargaining  for  a  night's  lodging,  in  the  apartments  commu- 
nicated with  by  the  notched  stick.  There  were,  doubtless, 
some  there  who  wished  themselves  away,  home  again  in  the 
quiet  routine  of  their  old  life  ;  but  if  so,  they  were  of  a  retir- 
ing nature,  and  not  noticed  in  the  crowd  who  seemed  bent 
on  having  a  good  time  at  all  hazards. 


148  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"^  House  ahoy  1"  sang  out  a  big  boat  which  had  edged  its 
way  into  the  bank,  directly  alongside  of  us,  hailing  the 
lantern — "  Any  spare  rooms  ?" 

■    "  How  many  are  there  of  you  ?"  replied   a  voice,  which 
was  not  that  of  the  proprietor. 

"  About  thirty." 

"  Wdl,  we  can  accommodate  you."  There  was  a  roar  of 
laughter  followed,  which  we  supposed  was  at  this  clever 
imposition,  but  it  appeared  that  it  was  at  a  man  with  an 
umbrella,  and  a  good  deal  of  speculation  was  immediately 
set  on  foot  as  to  where  he  came  from. 

"  Now,  then,  supper  for  thirty,"  sang  out  the  same  voice 
from  the  adjoining  boat,  speaking  again  to  the  lantern. 

"  All  right,"  returned  the  voice  from  the  bank. 

There  were  two  Frenchmen  in  this  boat,  who  were  among 
the  last  to  leave  her.  One  was  a  very  fat  man,  and  the 
other  a  very  thin  one  ;  but  they  were  equally  unsuccessful  in 
getting  up  the  w^et  and  slippery  bank.  After  two  or  three 
failures,  they  at  length  mutually  agreed  to  try  it  together ; 
so,  locking  arms,  they  once  more  started  on  their  adventurous 
course.  They  were  nearly  at  the  top,  when  they  again 
slipped  and  slid  back  to  the  bottom.  "  N'importe,"  said  the 
fat  one,  as  they  started  afresh,  "  nous  allons  bien  souper." 

"  Oui,"  replied  the  other,  "  nous  allons  bien  souper." 

And  off  they  went  again,  to  return  in  the  same  abrupt  and 
undignified  manner.  Poor  devils,  it  w'as  really  too  pitiable 
to  think  of  what  a  wretchedly  defective  reed  their  supper 
was  leaning  upon.  Every  time  they  set  off,  it  was  with 
the  same  promise  to  themselves  of  a  good  supper  awaiting 
them  on  the  hill ;  but  at  length  they  gave  it  up,  and  I 
undertook  to  console  them,  by  informing  them  of  the  true 
state  of  affairs  in  that  direction.  This  they  were  very  glad  to 
believe,  and  had  great  sport  over  it.    One  of  their  party  came 


A  NIGHT  ON  THE  RIVER.  149 

back  soou  after,  and  swore  that  there  was  nol  a  mouthful  of 
anything  to  eat  in  the  place,  and  that  the  hotel  was  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  a  hydropathic  institution,  where  they 
charged  two  dimes  for  brandy  and  water,  and  threw  in  a 
small  douche  gratis. 

All  this  time  it  was  still  raining,  and  without  any  signs 
of  clearing  up.  It  Avas  out  of  the  question  for  our  women 
folk  to  think  of  landing ;  and  except  that  we  had  plenty  of 
company  (which,  tlie  old  proverb  tells  us,  misery  loves),  we 
might  about  as  well  have  been  on  our  way  down  the  river. 
So,  when  our  boatmen  returned,  fortified  with  a  copious 
quantity  of  aguardente,  we  acceded  at  once  to  their  propo- 
sition to  proceed.  I  was  fortunately  successful  in  negotiating 
with  the  supperless  Frenchmen  for  a  rubber  cloth  to  cover 
our  awning  with,  a  pile  of  blankets  for  the  women  and  chil- 
dren, and  a  bottle  of  Otard  for  myself,  which  appliances  made 
us  a  shade  more  comfortable,  at  all  events. 

Again  we  looked  out  upon  the  thousand  dots  of  light,  now 
growing  dim  behind  us,  and  heard  more  and  more  faintly 
the  boisterous  uproar  of  the  motley  crowd  we  were  leaving — 
again  we  were  alone  with  the  river  and  the  rain,  with  no 
sound  save  its  beating  on  the  stream  and  its  shores,  and  the 
jabbering  and  howling  of  our  boatmen,  now  more  spirited 
than  ever.  IIow  lonesome  we  felt  again  !  There  was  some- 
thing so  chilling  in  the  feeling,  that  we  were  actually  alone 
with  tliat  same  dark,  silent,  seipentine  river  that  had  sent 
desolation  to  many  a  hearthside  afar,  and  was  still  flowing 
on  at  our  very  side,  as  merciless  and  remorseless  as  ever. 

A  huge,  lumbering,  black-looking  object,  directly  before 
us,  approaching  us,  nlniost  upon  us;  and  now  a  sonorous 
voice  from  it,  calling  out,  "  Starboard  your  helm — starboard  !" 
which  is  answered  by  an  increase  of  jabbering  on  the  part 
of  our  helmsman,  and  a  multitude  of  carahos  from  the  oars- 


150  LIFE  ON  TH-E  ISTHMUS. 

men.  It  is  alongside  of  us,  and  proves  to  be  a  large  barge, 
with  some  twenty  or  thirty  passengers.  As  we  rush  by,  it 
gives  us  a  parting  lick  on  the  larboard  quarter,  which  has 
no  other  efi'ect  than  to  twist  us  a  little  out  of  our  course,  and 
give  a  livelier  zest  to  the  carahos  of  our  boatmen.  It  has 
hardly  got  fairly  by  us,  when  a  voice  again  comes  from  it, 
inquiring  if  we  will  take  "Brown"  along  with  us,  as  he  has 
got  enough  of  California,  and  wishes  to  return  home ;  which 
cool  proposition,  as  we  have  not  previously  known  "Brown," 
and  think  it  possible  -that  he  may  not  prove  a  desirable 
acquaintance,  under  the  circumstances,  I  respectfully  decline. 
We  speedily  lose  sight  of  the  great,  black,  lumbering  barge, 
behind  a  bend  in  the  river,  and  are  only  aware  of  its  exist- 
ence from  the  fact,  that  the  plaintive  echoes  of  "Rosin  the 
Bow"  are  now  dying  away  over  the  silent  waters  in  our  wake. 

And  it  still  keeps  on  raining,  raining,  raining ;  and  our 
boat  keeps  up  its  speed,  and  our  boatmen  keep  up  their 
monotonous  howling  ;  and  whether  it  be  the  Otard,  of  which 
we  have  all  taken  several  sips ;  or  whether  it  be  that  we 
have  got  used  to  the  scene,  and  find  it  dull ;  or,  what  is 
more  probable,  are  so  wearied  out  after  our  long  day's 
travel,  that  tired  nature  claims  and  will  have  her  due ;  some- 
how or  other,  we  all  fafl  asleep.  I  say  all ;  for  I  am  sure 
that  I  kept  awake  until  the  last  one  finally  dropped  ofi^,  from 
pure  exhaustion.  I  have  an  indistinct  idea  that,  immediately 
after  my  departure  for  the  land  of  Nod,  a  hand,  as  of  the 
helmsman,  was  thrust  into  my  top-coat  pocket,  where  was 
the  Otard  before  alluded  to,  and  something  taken  therefrom. 
If  this  was  the  case,  I  am  sure  that  it  was  the  Otard,  as  that 
was  gone  when  I  awoke ;  although,  of  course,  I  might  have 
been  dreaming,  and  the  Otard  might  have  fallen  out,  and 
soraehow^  got  into  the  river. 

How  long  we  slept,  I  know  not,  but  I,  for  one,  had  some 


A  NIGHT  ON  THE  RIVER.  151 

curious  dreams.  I  dreamt  that  I  was  in  a  whaleboat  on  the 
Pacific,  with  Tom  and  the  Major,  steering  for  an  island,  which 
we  had  ahnost  readied,  full  of  truits,  and  birds,  and  game, 
and  turtle,  and  possessing  a  most  delightful  climate ;  and 
then  I  was  alone,  somewhere  in  the  Gila  country,  travelling 
through  the  sand  in  quest  of  a  great  and  wealthy  city  which 
I  was  sure  existed  somewhere  in  that  mysterious  region  ;  and 
then  I  was  scouring  the  pampas  of  Buenos  Ayres,  on  a  wild 
horse,  without  any  particular  end  in  view ;  and  then  I  had 
finally  come  home  a  very  rich,  but  sallow  and  sick  old  man, 
and  I  was  lying  in  bed,  while  my  only  sister,  who  had  not 
changed  any  in  all  these  long  years,  sat  placidly  sewing  at 
my  side  ;  and  in  every  one  of  these  scenes  I  was  so  tired  and 
sad.  And  then  I  awoke,  and  we  all  awoke,  and  there  was 
Chagres. 

We  came  in  to  the  bank  under  the  stern  of  the  brig  "  Bella 
del  Mar,"  opposite  to  the  Irving  House.  There  was  no  one 
stirring  on  the  levee,  except  about  a  dozen  young  fellows 
who  had  come  down  alongside  of  us  to  hear  the  news,  think- 
ing us  to  be  from  Panama.  It  had  cleared  off,  and  was  so 
very  bright  and  serene  a  night  now,  that  our  previous  expe- 
rience of  "  storm  and  darkness "  seemed  to  have  been  but 
pait  of  an  unpleasant  dream ;  and  old  Chagres,  that  mise- 
rable, vagabondish  place,  was  of  a  verity  to  us  "  a  sight  for 
sair  een."  We  could  see,  too,  as  easily  as  by  broad  day- 
light, that  these  young  men  were  a  little  unsteady  in  their 
movements,  as  if  overcome  by  liquor. 

I  inquired  if  we  could  get  into  any  hotel  at  that  hour,  for 
I  supposed  it  to  be  near  dawn. 

"  Oh,  we're  bound  to  see  you  safe  in,"  said  half-a-dozen 
together ;  "  we're  going  to  the  Irving,  now,  after  Samuels — 
come  along." 

"  Yes,"  said  one  of  the  number,  in  explanation,  "  we're  on 


152  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

a  bit  of  a  bender  to-night.  It's  sonie  anniversury,  as  near 
as  we  can  recollect,  and  this  dog  of  a  Samuels  slipped  off  at 
the  opening  of  the  third  basket.  So  we're  going  to  have  him 
out  and  administer  something  wholesome." 

"  Come  along,"  said  they  all  together. 

Under  their  auspices  we  landed,  and  followed  by  our  na- 
tives carrying  the  baggage,  proceeded  to  the  Irving  House, 
where  our  new  friends  kicked  furiously  at  the  door,  and  then 
made  a  formal  demand  for  Samuels.  But  it  appeared  that 
Samuels  was  not  forthcoming,  and  the  exasperated  proprietor 
refused  to  open  his  doors  at  that  unseasonable  hour,  and 
treated  the  story  of  a  party  from  down  river  being  in  atten- 
dance outside,  with  entire  contempt.  A  council  of  war  was 
then  held  by  the  besiegers  ;  and  the  result  was,  that  a  large 
piece  of  joist  was  brought  up  from  the  bank  by  the  whole 
strength  of  the  company,  six  of  a  side,  and  thrust  with  all 
the  vigor  of  the  united  twelve  against  the  inhospitable  door. 
The  door  did  not  yield  at  first,  but  the  twelve  did,  and  fall- 
ing with  the  heavy  timber  upon  them,  one  half  of  the  num- 
ber were  considerably  bruised.  The  second  attack  differed 
from  the  first,  in  that  it  was  the  starboard  half  in  lieu  of  the 
h^rboard  who  received  the  timber  this  time  in  falling,  and 
were  likewise  considerably  bruised.  Upon  the  third  attack, 
the  door  was  beaten  in,  and  we  all  entered. 

I  presume  that  the  young  men  were  successful  in  their 
search  for  Samuels,  for  having  occasion  to  go  down  stairs  for 
a  pitcher  of  fresh  water,  after  Ave  had  retired  to  our  rooms 
for  the  balance  of  the  night,  I  saw  a  haggard  and  sleepy- 
looking  gentleman  perched  upon  a  stool  on  the  table,  with  his 
head  firmly  encased  in  a  certain  household  utensil,  which  shall 
be  nameless.  I  inferred  from  appearances,  that  he  was  about 
to  be  treated  with  a  mixture  of  something  which  one  of  the 
party  was  preparing  in  a  small  basin,  but  what  the  whole- 


,4  MCillT  ON  THE  RIVER.  153 

some  compound  was,  I  did  not  learn.  I  saw  the  same  indi- 
vidual the  next  day,  with  his  head  somewhat  damaged  and 
swollen,  and  am  inclined  to  believe  that  the  aforesaid  uten- 
sil, having  tightened  upon  his  cranium  after  repeated  pota- 
tions, it  was  found  necessary  to  break  it  thereon,  before  it 
could  be  removed.  And  this  was  one  of  the  features  of  what 
the  Chagres  boys  termed  "  a  bender." 


154  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

WHAT    A    DAY    MAY    BRING    FORTH. 

IT  is,  probably,  hardly  necessary  for  me  at  this  stage  of  my 
narrative  to  say,  that  I  have  all  along  been  quite  free  of 
apprehensions  of  suiting  that  self-sufficient  and  orderly  class, 
whose  ideas  seldom  go  beyond  their  daily  task ;  who  can 
see  no  good  out  of  their  own  private  Jerusalem  ;  who  look 
with  horror  upon  an  adventure,  or  anything  which  comes  to 
them,  bearing  the  guise  or  savor  of  romance  ;  who  bear 
indelibly  stamped  upon  their  countenances  the  motto  of  the 
old  lady  who  bought  the  caul  of  David  Copperfield — "  Let 
there  be  no  meandering","  who,  if  they  read  at  all,  read  to 
be  instructed,  to  weigh  down  their  memory  with  a  load  of 
facts;  and  have  no  undignified  suspicions  of  what  is  included 
in  the  poetry,  the  drollery,  the  dreamery  of  life.  On  the 
contrary,  it  is  confident!)'  expected  that  this  class  of  people 
will  long  since  have  thrown  aside  the  book  with  a  contemp- 
tuous "  Fudge !  Does  the  writer  take  us  to  be  fools,  that 
we  should  believe  this  mass  of  stuflT?"  These  people  con- 
sider nothing  as  worthy  their  attention  but  what  lies  within 
the  very  limited  circle  of  their  own  observation  or  experience. 
They  are  the  Thomases  of  the  world,  and  require  even  to 
thrust  their  fingers  into  the  pint  of  the  nails,  or  they  will 
not  believe. 

As  if  oftentimes  one  single  thought  which  the  novelist 
pens  in  bitterest  sincerity  of  heart,  were  not  a  thousand  fold 


WHAT  A  DAY  MAY  BRING  FORTH.  155 

more  true,  because  more  earnest,  than  all  the  dull  acts  of 
their  unvaried  life.  As  if,  though  they  would  smile  to  hear 
us  say  so,  the  very  abject  man  of  crime,  when  considered  iu 
relation  to  the  strength  of  the  temptations  which  he  has 
withstood,  and  the  more  terrible  strength  of  that  temptation 
to  which  he  finally  succumbed,  were  not  oftentimes  more 
honest  and  virtuous  than  they. 

I  do  not  then  deem  it  necessary  to  offer  to  the  reader  any 
apology  for  the  unusual  character  which  the  incidents  of  the 
day  I  am  about  to  describe  may  happen  to  possess.  It  is 
not  my  fault  if  they  are  somewhat  strange.  The  world  is  a 
wide  one,  and  there  is  not  a  day  passes  in  any  part  of  it, 
but  bringeth  forth  far  stranger  things  than  these.  And  now 
having  relieved  my  mind  in  a  measure,  by  putting  forth  this 
disclaimer,  or  whatever  you  please  to  call  it,  I  promise 
for  the  future  to  stick  more  closely  to  the  thread  of  my 
narrative. 

It  was  after  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  before  the 
Falcon  was  off  on  her  home-bound  flight,  and  I  was  on 
shore  again  in  weary  Chagres.  My  first  visit  on  landing 
was  to  the  Empire  City  Hotel,  to  see  my  old  friends.  Vale 
and  Parkins,  and  get  the  latest  reports  from  Vitti,  who,  as  I 
had  casually  learned  in  the  morning,  was  now  confined  in 
the  old  fort.  I  should  have  put  up  at  the  Empire  on  the 
previous  night,  but  as  hotel-keeping  was  a  new  business 
with  Mr.  Vale,  I  had  an  undefined  apprehension  that  he 
might  not  have  been  successful  in  it,  and  that  we  should  be 
more  comfortable  at  the  Irving,  which  indeed,  at  that  time, 
was  the  model  hotel  of  Chagres.  In  this  it  seems  that  I  was 
not  far  wrong,  for  on  arriving  at  my  old  loitering-place,  I 
could  not  avoid  remarking,  at  first  sight,  an  air  of  nudity 
and  forlorn  abandonment,  that  would  have  been  melan- 
choly had  it  not  been  so  beautifully  characteristic  of  the  pre- 


156  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

siding  genius  of  the  place.  The  lower  part  of  the  house  was 
deserted,  and  had  a  damp  and  dismal  smell  about  it  like  a 
cellar.  The  bar-room  was  vacant,  both  of  loafers  and  liquor. 
It  was  another  failure  in  Vale's  multifarious  pursuits,  and 
had  it  not  been  for  a  slip  of  paper,  with  a  hand  pointing  to 
the  staircase,  and  the  words  "  not  dead  but  sleeping,"  written 
thereon,  and  meant  to  be  waggishly  explanatory  of  the  true 
state  of  things,  I  should  have  left  the  house  under  the 
impression  that  both  Vale  and  Parkins  had  departed  this 
place,  if  not  in  fact  this  life,  for  a  better. 

Pursuing  the  direction  in  which  the  hand  jwinted,  I 
reached  the  chamber  where  I  had  already  seen  the  French 
Marquis  and  poor  Parkins  in  an  unenviable  state  of  health, 
to  find  there  another  candidate  for  the  pleasures  of  illness, 
— even  Senor  Quanto  Valley  himself.  He  was  stretched 
upon  the  sofa,  with  a  table  wheeled  to  his  side,  covered  with 
a  Napoleonesque  assortment  of  maps,  plans,  and  other 
documents,  while  his  ex-partner,  again  upon  his  legs,  thanks 
to  the  treatment  of  Doctor  G ,  officiated  in  the  cha- 
racter of  nurse. 

"  This  comes  of  fillibustering  it,"  said  the  latter  as  I  enter- 
ed, with  a  glance  towards  Vale,  in  vvhich  contempt  and  reproof 
were  alike  mingled, — "  you  see  the  old  fool  would  make  a 
public  idiot  of  himself,  by  attempting  the  rescue  of  that 
madcap  Vitti,  and  this  is  what  comes  of  it." 

Vale  was  certainly  rather  the  worse  for  his  adventure, 
whatever  it  might  have  been,  to  which  Parkins  alluded.  His 
huge  face  was  gashed  and  torn  in  places,  to  the  great  cost 
of  his  hair  and  whiskers.  One  arm  was  in  a  sling,  and  from 
his  manner  of  reclining,  it  was  easily  inferred  that  some 
other  limbs  had  likewise  suffered  damage.  Nothing  put 
down,  nevertheless,  by  the  shattered  position  in  which 
I  had  found  him,  he  extended  his  whole  hand  to  me  in  salu- 


WHAT  A  DAY  MAY  BRING  FORTH.  157 

tation,  arid  observed,  with  a  bappy  smile,  tbat  there  was  no 
evil  without  an  attendant  good ;  and  added,  that  Parkins 
would  give  me  the  particulars  of  the  assault  in  which  he  led  a 
body  of  determined  men  to  the  rescue  of  Vitti  at  the  fort, 
which  enterprise  failed  of  success,  through  an  unforeseen  acci- 
dent that  befel  the  leader  thereof;  thinking,  I  suppose,  in  trust- 
ing Parkins  with  this  narration,  that  I  knew  his  weak  points 
well  enough  to  make  due  allowances  for  anything  he  might 
utter  derogatory  to  the  character  or  courage  of  him — Vale. 

"  Well,"  said  Parkins,  taking  up  the  tale  in  quite  an 
enthusiastic  manner,  "  the  blasted  old  fool,  yesterday  after- 
noon, after  having  worked  all  the  morning,  like  a  nigger 
slave,  as  he  is — to  get  Vitti  into  the  fort^ — " 

"  For  certain  reasons,"  suggested  Vale,  in  a  parenthesis, 
and  with  an  approving  smile. 

"  Must  wheel  suddenly  right  about  face,"  continued  Par- 
kins, "  and  plan  a  rescue  for  the  same  night.  So  he  gets 
together  all  the  young  scapegraces  of  the  place,  gives  them 
a  free  treat — gets  most  of  them  almighty  corned — " 

"  Which  explains  the  actual  state  of  the  bar,"  I  observed. 

"  Exactly — and  then,  just  after  dark,  leads  off  for  the  other 
side.  Such  a  set !  There  wasn't  one  of  them  knew  what 
they  were  going  for,  for  old  Quanto,  with  his  usual  bombast, 
had,  towards  the  close  of  the  treat,  made  a  speech  in  which 
there  was  so  much  about  the  memory  of  Washington,  Bunker 
Hill,  principles  of  '7G,  glorious  4th,  and  so  on,  that  they  were 
completely  bewildered,  and  seemed  to  think  it  was  some 
great  anhiversary,  and  that  they  were  to  celebrate  it  by 
firing  off  the  guns  of  the  fart,  killing  a  few  natives,  or  some- 
thing of  the  kind.  Why,  some  of  the  rowdiest  came  back 
after  the  downfall  of  old  Quixote,  and  persisted  in  finishing 
our  champagne,  drinking  '  the  day  we  celebrate,'  and  such 
nousense." 


158  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"  I  met  some  of  this  class  quite  early  this  morning,"  said  I. 

"Quite  likely — they  had  a  charge  sufficient  for  three 
days.  Well,  they  got  across  the  river  somehow  or  other, 
and  went  staggering  up  the  hill  where  the  fort  is,  in  the 
most  absurd  manner " 

"  To  the  tune  of  '  I  see  them  on  their  winding  way,'  " 
interrupted  Vale,  who  was  reviewing  the  exploit  with  his 
mind's  eye,  and  evidently  looked  upon  it  as  the  event  of 
his  life. 

"  But  as  it  happened,"  resumed  Parkins,  "just  before  they 
reached  the  moat,  our  great  hero  of  a  leader,  in  taking  too 
much  sheer  in  his  winding  way,  went  over  the  bank,  and 
just  missed  breaking  his  preposterous  neck.  He  had  the 
luck,  however,  to  fetch  up  against  a  projecting  rock,  which 
did  the  business  for  his  right  arm  and  left  leg,  and  then  they 
fished  him  back  and  brought  him  home,  and  a  pretty  mess 
I'm  with  it  all !" 

"  So  far  so  good,"  said  Vale,  with  a  complimentary  smile 
in  the  direction  of  Parkins,  "  and  now  for  the  moral  of  the 
tale.  For  the  injuries  done  to  my  person,  in  the  attempt  to 
save  a  fellow-countryman,  from  what  I  now  believe  to  be 
unmerited  punishment,  the  republic  of  New  Grenada  must 
answer.  And,  sir,  I  have  this  day  perfected  my  plan.  This 
fall  of  mine  is  not  for  nothing — I  shall  come  up  again.  Yes, 
sir,  I  have  perfected  my  plan  for  seizing  this  key  to  the  Isth- 
mus, and  declaring  it,  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific,  a 
portion  of  our  glorious  republic,  tlie  birth-place  of  Wash- 
ington, and  which  has  given  to  the  world  the  sublime  spec- 
tacle of  a  successful  eftbrt  at  self-government,  and  a  Fourth 
of  July.  There  are  those  who  wait  but  the  promulgation 
of  my  project  to  second  me.  Sir,  Napoleon,  who  was  like- 
wise a  self-made  man,  in  his  younger  days  was  wont  to  say, 
that  if  he  could  secure  for  his  countiy  the  possession  of  Suez, 


WHAT  A  DAY  MAY  BRING  FORTH.  159 

he  would  control  the  commerce  of  the  East.  Since  the  time 
of  that  very  clever  man — I  think  even  Parkins  will  admit 
this — things  liave  changed ;  the  commerce  of  the  East  is 
destined  to  turn  its  face  backward  from  its  old  path  ;  and  this 
Isthmus,  which  I  am  to  declare  ours,  is  the  channel  through 
which  its  immense  wealth  shall  flow." 

While  Mr.  Vale  was  thus  discoursing,  in  the  delirium  of 
fever,  he  had  partly  risen  fi-om  his  couch,  and,  with  his  left 
hand  spread  upon  his  maps  and  plans,  seemed  to  forget  his 
bodily  pain,  and  to  hold  himself  ready  for  the  onset  at  a 
moment's  notice.  Parkins  did  his  best  to  keep  him  down ; 
but  he  too  had  the  Chagres  mark  most  unmistakably  im- 
pressed upon  him,  and  was  feeble  as  a  child.  The  desolate 
condition  of  these  two  men,  attached  thus  strongly  and 
strangely  to  each  other,  was  not  a  scene  to  contemplate  with- 
out emotion.  I  saw  not  the  burlesque  character  of  it  exclu- 
sively ;  I  felt  more  in  the  condition  of  Byron,  when  he  said — 

"And  if  I  laugh  at  any  mortal  thing, 
'Tis  that  I  may  not  weep " 

"  But,"  said  I,  with  a  jerk  as  it  were,  for  I  saw  the  neces- 
sity of  calming  Vale  by  a  change  of  topic,  "  how  goes  the 
hotel,  my  dear  fellow — chock  full,  eh  ?" 

"  Why,  not  exactly,"  responded  Vale,  seizing  likewise  upon 
tliis  topic  with  alacrity.     "  I  have  an  idea  for  a  hotel." 

"  There  he  goes  again,"  observed  Parkins,  despairingly 

"  I  would  build  one  out  in  the  neighborhood  of  your  old 
camel  encampment,  a  hotel  equal  to  any  in  the  vStates,  pro- 
vided with  all  the  comforts  and  luxuries  of  our  own  homes. 
Such  a  hotel  as  this  would  do  more  for  this  place,  than  all 
the  prayers  of  the  saints  could  effect  in  any  other  way.  Just 
think  of  a  poor  devil,  wet  and  weary,  half  dead  with  his 
fatigue  of   crossing  the  Isthmus,  coming  to  a  place  like 


160  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

home,  as  I  mean  to  make  the  Atlantic  Steamship  Hotel ; 
why,  sir,  he  would  stow  away  the  proprietor's  name  in  his 
heart,  and  keep  it  there  always  afterwards,  as  a  benefactor 
of  his  race." 

"  Very  likely,"  said  I,  "  but  you  forget  that  this  town  will 
not  last  long.  When  the  railroad  is  completed,  Chagres 
must  be  abandoned  for  Navy  Bay.  No  one  would  invest 
capital,  as  yon  propose,  with  such  a  prospect." 

"  Another  idea,"  said  Vale,  eagerly,  with  the  same  deli- 
rious glitter  in  his  eye.  "  What  do  you  think  of  settling  at 
Navy  Bay — the  first  man,  I  mean  the  first  regular  permanent 
resident,  and  becoming  the  pioneer  citizen  of  the  place— I 
have  thought  of  that  too.  What  a  figure  I  should  cut  at 
dinner  celebrations,  in  later  years,  when  the  new  city  shall 
boast  its  hundred  thousand  inhabitants — I  should  be  the 
Daniel  Boone  of  the  Isthmus.     I  should  immortalize  myself." 

"  Only,  that  you  would  starve  several  years  before  your 
tremendous  greatness  would  have  a  chance  to  begin,"  ob- 
served the  incorrigible  Parkins. 

In  the  course  of  the  conversation  which  ensued,  I  obtained 
-no  further  news  of  Vitti.  He  was  still  shut  up  in  the  fort, 
awaiting  the  time  when  he  should  be  taken  to  Panama  for 
trial.  His  sister  had  not  been  heard  from.  It  was  late  for 
me  to  think  of  returning  to  Dos  Hermanas  that  night,  even 
if  a  boat  could  have  been  had,  which,  considering  the  num- 
ber of  passengers  by  the  Falcon  and  Crescent  City,  was 
somewhat  doubtful.  And,  as  I  was  sure  of  an  opportunity 
of  proceeding  early  on  the  following  morning  by  the 
steamer  Ralph.  Rivas,  I  resolved  to  go  over  to  the  fort  at 
once,  and  communicate  with  Vitti,  determined  in  my  own 
mind  to  get  at  something  which  should  serve  as  a  clue  to 
all  this  mystery.  I  left  Vale  and  Parkins,  not  doubting  but 
that  I  should  see  or  hear  from  them  again ;  but  up  to  this 


WHAT  A  DAY  MAY  BRING  FORTH.  161 

moment,  I  never  have.  Poor  iSampson  Vale — bowf  pleasantly 
the  foolish  dreamer  would  smile  at  the  application  of  this 
epithet  to  hhn — I  often  wonder  if  he  is  still  above  ground — 
leading  the  same  old  visionary  life,  chasing  the  golden- 
winged  butterflies  of  his  fancy,  but  never  fairly  grasping 
them,  through  the  blustering  world,  with  the  weary  Solomon 
dragging  after,  and  almost  blinded  by  the  dust  in  his  wake. 
And  yet  Mr.  Yale,  after  all,  was  but  one  of  a  very  numerous 
class  in  the  world.  The  dread  of  being  nobody  is  the  bug- 
bear of  their  unhappy  lives,  and  so  they  wear  themselves 
away,  the  very  nothingest  of  nobodies,  simply  because  they 
are  always  hankei'ing  after  something  to  which  it  is  not  pos- 
sible they  can  ever  reach. 

It  was  raining  heavily  as,  having  crossed  the  river,  imme- 
diately after  the  interview  above  narrated,  I  toiled  up  the  steep 
rocky  hillside  leading  to  the  fort.  I  think  I  never  felt  more 
spiritless  and  sad.  The  parting  that  day  with  those  dearest 
to  me  on  earth  ;  the  melancholy  situation  of  our  party  on  the 
river;  the  yet  more  melancholy  one  of  the  friends  I  had  just 
left,  and  the  situation  of  him  I  was  going  to  see,  most  melan- 
choly of  all ;  my  own  solitariness,  and  perchance  the  presen- 
timent of  an  approaching  mishap  ;  the  dreary  weather, — all 
combined  to  blacken  the  deep  gloom  which  hung  over  me 
like  a  cloud.  I  picked  my  way  along  over  the  loose,  slip- 
pery rocks,  and  felt  desperate  enough.  Even  when  I  passed 
the  point  on  the  bluff  where  Vale  had  shd  off,  my  imagina- 
tion was  powerless  to  bring  before  me  the  ludicrousness  of 
his  adventure.  I  passed  into  the  outer  fortress  over  the 
tottering  bridge,  and  went  doggedly  by  the  soldiers  stationed 
at  the  gateway  leading  to  the  inner.  I  should  quite  have 
liked  a  bit  of  a  row  at  that  moment,  to  have  waked  me  up  a 
little ;  but  the  poor  fellows  on  sentry  were  in  no  mood  for 
anything  of  the  kind.     The  idea  of  Vale  attacking  these 


162  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

people  !  One  lialf  of  the  liquor  spent  in  treating  tlie  assault- 
ing party  would  hav^e  bought  a  free  pass  for  Vitti  a  dozen 
times  over. 

I  was  in  no  mood  for  admiring  the  excellence  of  the  work  ; 
its  stupendous  sea-wall,  formed  partly  by  nature ;  its  solid 
cemented  floor;  its  lines  of  dungeons  under  ground,  running 
deep  beneath  the  surface  of  the  outer  fortress  ;  its  magnificent 
position,  overlooking  the  broad  fields  of  the  Atlantic,  and 
effectually  protecting  the  hamlet  couched  at  its  base;  its 
heavy,  tirae-stained  guns ;  its  sentry-boxes,  black  and  decay- 
ing, suggestive  of  so  many  long,  weary  hours  of  a  soldier's 
life ;  its  piles  of  rusty  balls ;  its  brick  and  cemented,  but 
ruinous  buildings ;  its  one  other  building,  partly  constructed 
of  similar  materials,  and  partly  of  wood,  the  quarters  of  the 
officers  in  the  old  time,  the  present  jail  of  Chagres.  It  was 
a  type  of  the  power  and  magnificence  of  a  past  age,  crumbling 
away  before  the  higher  power  and  truer  magnificence  of  our 
own. 

Not  seeing  any  one  in  particular  who  seemed  to  be  in  any 
sort  of  authority  there,  I  at  once  eutered  the  wooden  build- 
ing, and  passing  up  stairs,  found  Vitti  alone  in  a  bare  and 
extremely  desolate-looking  apartment.  He  was  half  lying 
upon  a  cot  with  his  head  resting  upon  his  arm,  gazing 
moodily  at  the  floor.  My  entrance  caused  a  scampering 
among  the  cockroaches,  who,  emboldened  by  the  prisoner's 
apathy,  had  ventured  from  their  h^les. 

"  Vitti,  my  old  boy,"  said  I,  as  cheerfully  as  possible,  on 
entering,  "  how  goes  it,  eh  ?  not  altogether  down-hearted,  I 
hope  ?" 

As  he  raised  his  head  and  extended  his  hand  to  greet  me, 
I  could  not  avoid  being  struck  with  the  great  change  which 
had  come  over  him.  He  was  thin,  pale,  and  haggard  ;  but 
not  quite  given  over  to  despair.     On  the  contrary,  there  was 


WHAT  A  DAY  MAY  BRING  FORTH.  163 

a  twitching  of  his  muscles  and  flashing  of  his  eye,  which 
sliowed  a  great  struggle  of  some  sort  still  at  work  within. 
This  was  a  favorable  sign.  He  seemed,  as  near  as  I  could 
judge  at  a  glance,  like  a  man  groping  in  mystery,  and  vainly 
harassing  himself  for  a'  clue.  He  did  not  speak  to  me  at 
first,  but  watched  me  closely,  as  if  he  would  read  my  errand 
in  my  face.  It  was  certainly  not  there — at  least  what  he 
expected — and  then  he  ventured  to  say,  still  holding  me  tight 
by  the  hand,  "  My  sister,  do  you  know  anything  of  her  ?" 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  but  I  am  sure  that  she  is  safe,  and  that 
no  harm  has  come  to  her." 

Oh,  the  heart-thrilling  earnestness  of  the  "thank  God!" 
which  "broke  from  Vitti  as  I  said  this !  Tt  made  me  tremble 
to  think  that  he  really  believed  me.  He  kept  still  looking 
at  me,  and  squeezing  my  hand,  as  if  to  be  certain  that  he 
had  really  heard  those  words  of  mine  ;  and  then  I  saw  tears 
begin  to  gather  in  his  eyes,  and  then  they  rolled  down  his 
cheeks,  and  made  him  keep  his  hold  upon  me  all  the  tighter 
for  fear  that  shower  of  joy  and  gratitude  might  hide  me 
from  his  sight,  and  the  delicious  dream  be  over. 

"  Vitti,"  said  I,  again,  solemnly,  for  it  was  truly  a  solemn 
moment,  and  I  felt  that  the  eternal  happiness  of  two  lives 
depended  on  the  answer — "  tell  me,  Vitti,  with  your  own 
lips,  that  you  are  innocent  of  the  crime  they  charge  you 
with.  I  do  not  doubt  it,  only  let  me  hear  it  from  your  own 
lips." 

In  an  instant  his  whole  expression  changed.  The  former 
cloud  of  terror  and  doubt  rolled  away,  and  he  was  in  ex- 
pression the  same  brave,  frank,  daring  boy  as  ever.  "  Ha  !" 
said  he,  "  that  was  spared  me.  Had  any  wrong  been  done 
by  him  to  my  sister,  I  would  have  murdered  him,  and 
laughed  at  anything  hell  could  add  to  my  torments.  The 
murdering  of  a  man   would   have  been  nothing.     No, — I 


164  LIFE  ON  THK  ISTHMUS. 

found  him  dying — and  was  with  hiui  to  the  hvst,  calUng 
upon  him  to  tell  me  of  my  sister — but  he  never  spoke  to  me 
a  word.  He  died,  and  it  was  the  terrible  uncertainty  of  her 
fate  that  was  killing  me.  I  could  not  find  it  possible  to 
decide  on  what  to  do,  and  I  have  been  in  a  stupor  until 
DOW.  But  now  I  shall  go  out  and  find  her.  My  sister  lives 
— as  she  did  in  what  seems  to  me  another  earlier  state  of 
existence — so  changed  have  I  become  in  the  last  two  days ; 
and  all  the  powers  of  earth  cannot  prevent  our  reunion. 
Come,  let  us  leave  this  miserable,  rotten  old  place,  and  go 
out ;  there  is  a  whole  band  of  angels  in  the  air  above  us,  to 
protect  us  on  our  way." 

Even  as  Vitti  spoke,  in  the  rapture  of  the  moment,  a  gold- 
en stream  of  light  poured  into  the  room  from  the  west. 
We  rose  up,  hand  in  hand,  to  go  forth.  As  we  issued  from 
the  house,  guarded  only  by  a  few  superannuated  natives  in 
the  menial  department,  the  whole  world  seemed  suddenly 
to  have  become  fresh  and  new  again.  Broad  patches  of  blue 
sky,  in  one  of  which  was  the  clear  bright  sun,  now  almost 
setting,  gave  to  the  heavens  a  cheerful  aspect  above.  The 
broad  ocean  wore  its  white  caps  jauntily  in  the  purified  at- 
mosphere— the  broader  expanse  of  hill-side  and  forest,  wav- 
ing willi  its  mass  of  richest  verdure,  like  another  ocean,  with 
mysteries  and  voices  as  sublime  and  solemn  as  the  first,  wore 
every  tint  of  gold  and  green.  The  river,  with  the  life  upon 
its  bosom,  the  houses  in  the  vale  beneath  us,  every  homeliest 
object  within  the  circle  of  our  view,  each  had  its  own  face 
brighter  for  the  pearly  drops  which  had  kissed  it.  And  who 
in  a  mood  to  enjoy  it  like  Vitti  ?  The  few  words  of  hope 
and  sympathy  which  I  had  spoken,  had  been  to  him  as  a 
new  birth,  and  he  was  like  a  child  in  his  sportive  apprecia- 
tion. We  walked  towards  the  ramparts,  for  we  were  not 
(juite  prepared  to  venture  on  a  sally  forth. 


WHAT  A  DAY  MAY  BRING  FORTH.  165 

"  Last  evening,"  said  Vitti,  "  as  I  walked  here  alone,  I  saw 
a  vision  yonder  Avhich  made  me  doubt  for  a  moment  the 
soundness  of  my  reason." 

-  He  pointed  across  the  water  to  a  point  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  small  river,  which  I  have  heretofore  noticed  as  flowing 
into  the  sea  hard  by  where  stood  our  camel  encampment. 

"  All  day  long,"  continued  he,  "  the  image  of  my  sister 
had  been  before  me  like  an  actual  presence ;  and  as  I  stood 
out  here,  at  about  this  very  hour,  I  saw  her  still ;  but  now 
she  was  afar  off,  gliding  like  a  spirit  along  the  beach  in  that 
direction.  It  was  not  strange  that  I  should  fancy  her  there, 
for  it  was  her  old  favorite  walk.  I  rubbed  my  eyes  for  ano- 
ther look — the  vision  seemed  so  real  and  palpable — but  when 
I  looked  again,  she  was  gone.  Nevertheless,  I  dreamed  of 
her  as  still  there.  But  good  Heavens  !  what  is  that  ? — I  see 
the  same  form  again  !" 

I  strained  my  eyes  in  the  direction  indicated,  and  in  all 
the  wide  reach  of  the  magnificent  panorama,  which  the  sun 
was  gilding  so  gorgeously  with  his  latest  rays,  I  too  saw  but 
one  figure,  and  it  was  certainly  that  of  a  woman  pacing  soli- 
tarily along  the  shore. 

"  I  see  it,"  said  I,  and  although  the  figure  was  very  indis- 
tinct to  my  eyes,  from  the  great  distance,  something  impelled 
me  to  cry  out,  "  and  it  is  she  ; — yes,  Vitti,  it  is  your  sister  !" 

"  And  do  you  really  see  it  ?"  said  he,  in  a  low  and  solemn 
tone.     "  Oh,  God,  can  it  be  ?" 

There  was  no  doubt  of  it — there  was  really  a  slight  and 
graceful  figure  hovering  there — so  slight,  one  might  have  been 
pardoned  in  the  strange  beauty  of  the  hour  for  believing  it 
to  be  a  spirit.  But  I  was  satisfied.  Already  a  possible  in- 
terpretation of  the  whole  affair  was  passing  through  my 
mind. 

"  Vitti,"  said  I,  still  holding  him  by  the  hand,  and  speak- 


166  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

ing  as  calmly  as  I  could,  "  this  serene  sky  and  tranquil  earth, 
rising  up  out  of  the  ruins  of  the  storm,  is  a  type  of  what  you 
also  are  to  expect.  Leave  the  arrangement  of  the  thing  to 
me.  I  shall  find  your  sister,  and  bring  her  to  you  here. 
You  cannot  go  forth  now,  but  to-night  you  may.  And  to- 
morrow you  and  your  sister  may  both  be  safe  on  board  the 
Crescent  City.  In  another  land  you  may  be  happier  than 
you  could  ever  hope  to  be  in  this." 

The  form  of  the  solitary  woman  had  disappeared  from  the 
beach.  Vitti,  holding  my  hand  like  an  obedient  child,  walked 
back  with  me  to  the  house.  I  think  at  that  moment,  if  an 
angel  had  come  down  from  the  sky,  flapping  his  white  wings 
about  us,  he  would  not  have  trusted  him  so  implicitly  as 
me. 

"Do  not  be  long  away,"  said  he,  as  I  left  him  in  his  room 
— no  more  a  prison-house,  but  the  rendezvous  where  he  was 
soon  to  meet  his  soul's  twin  ;  and  then  as  I  was  going  down 
the  rickety  old  stairs,  he  called  me  back. 

"  Stay  a  moment,"  said  he,  with  tears  pouring  down  his 
face ;  "  it  is  my  belief  that  the  sinless  have  power  with  God 
for  the  pardon  of  the  sinful.  Now  hear  me.  There  is  one 
angel,  though  she  still  lives  on  earth,  who  shall  be  taught 
both  here  and  hereafter,  as  by  the  secret  bond  of  sympathy 
Detween  us  I  know  how  to  teach  her,  to  weary  Ileaven's 
Majesty  for  your  eternal  good.  There  is  no  other  recom- 
pense fitting  for  a  deed  of  kindness  like  this.  Now  go,  and 
take  this  certainty  along  with  you  !" 

I  went  out  from  the  old  fort,  the  grim  exponent  of  man's 
meaner  passions.  I  recrossed  the  river,  and  taking  my  way 
along  the  marginal  path  I  had  often  travelled  before,  came 
to  the  spot  wliere  we  had  recently  encamped.  Tlie  sun  was 
setting.  The  broad  sea  was  there  like  a  huge  shaggy,  but 
not  unfriendly  monster,  pawing  upon  the  sand,  licking  it  with 


♦       WHAT  A  DAY  MAY  BRING  FORTH.  167 

its  great  white  lolling  tongue,  and  growling  in  its  deep  throat 
as  was  its  wont.  I  sat  down,  for  a  moment,  to  rest  upon  a 
fragment  of  a  former  wreck,  and  was  reviewing  in  my  mind 
the  incidents  of  the  day,  when  I  heard  a  voice  close  beside 
me,  but  nearer  to  the  stream  than  where  I  sat — a  voice  sing- 
ing. I  needed  not  to  see  the  form  of  its  owner  then,  for  I 
knew  it  well.  That  voice — that  tone  of  voice — it  told  its 
own  story  ;  yes,  in  its  uncertain  aim,  its  shrill  and  un- 
steady pitch,  its  sobbing,  gasping  accompaniment — the  old- 
est of  all  old  stories,  a  disordered  intellect  consequent  upon 
blighted  love,  a  story  told  so  touchingly  in  the  history  of  fair 
Ophelia  and  the  gentle  Bride  of  Lammermoor — a  story  that 
we  do  not  often  hear  in  the  busy  world,  because  stifled  in  the 
walls  of  a  mad-house,  or  wasting  its  echoes  in  the  more  sul- 
len and  certain  seclusion  of  the  grave,  but  none  the  less  fre- 
quently enacting  for  all  that. 

I  rose  up  from  where  I  was  sitting,  and  listened ;  I  could 
make  out  no  words,  and  know  not  if  this  plaintive  outpour- 
ing of  a  clouded  heart  found  vent  in  words ;  but  the  senti- 
ment conveyed  to  my  mind  thereby  I  afterwards  tried  to  fix 
in  "  a  local  habitation." 

The  following  may  not  suggest  to  the  reader  the  depth  of 
sorrow  which  seemed  to  well  up  from  the  singer's  heart,  and 
I  give  it  only  as  my  feeble  interpretation  of  the  same  : — 

SONG. 

"  Let  me  go  where  waves  are  wildest, 

Breaking  on  a  lonesome  shore; 
Where  the  winds  that  erst  were  mildest, 

'Long  tlie  solemn  beaches  roar. 
There  a  sea-bird  wild  and  storm-tost, 

Vainly  flies  the  waters  o'er ; 
Here  a  maid,  as  lorn  and  love-lost, 

Weepeth,  waileth  evermore. 


168  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"  Day  by  day  the  waters  gather, 

And  the  waves  are  leaping  high  ; 
So  in  calm  and  blackest  weather. 

Still  the  lone  sea-bird  must  fly. 
There's  a  brain  is  mad  with  fever. 

There's  a  wild  and  tear-dimmed  eye ; 
There's  a  heart  is  breaking  ever, 

And  will  break — until  I  die." 

It  now  occurred  to  me,  that  once,  having  gone  back  some 
distance  from  tlie  beach,  on  a  tramp  with  the  Major,  we  had 
come  upon  the  ranche  of  an  old  native,  who,  in  the  course 
of  our  conversation,  had  mentioned  the  names  of  Vitti  and 
his  sister ;  I  had  forgotten  in  what  connexion.  It  was  pro- 
bable that  Carlotta  had  been  secreted  with  him  during  these 
past  few  days  ;  but  for  what  ?     This  I  was  soon  to  learn. 

As  she  came  into  view,  keeping  close  by  the  margin  of  the 
stream,  and  walking  towards  the  sea,  I  observed  in  her  the 
same  wonderful  grace  and  beauty  as  ever ;  but  could  not 
help  likewise  noticing,  with  the  keenest  regret,  that  uncer- 
tainty of  gait  which  bespeaks  a  lack  of  purpose  in  the  mind  ; 
she  did  not  see  me  till  I  was  quite  near  to  her,  and  when  I 
uttered  her  name  softly,  she  sprang  back  as  if  stung.  Seeing 
and  recognising  me,  she  became  quiet,  however,  and  seemed 
to  await  the  delivery  of  my  message. 

"  I  come  from  your  brother,  Mademoiselle,"  said  I,  using 
the  French  language. 

"  Yes,"  said  she.     "  He  is  well  f 

"  Hardly,"  said  I ;  "he  has  missed  you  for  a  few  days, 
and  suffers  much  anxiety  on  that  account.  Will  you  return 
with  me  to  him  ?" 

"  Is  he  alone  ?"  inquired  she,  with  a  very  strange,  unnatu- 
ral calmness  of  tone. 

A  new  idea  broke  upon  mo.  "  He  is,"  said  I.  "  The 
French  Marquis  de  G " 


WHAT  A  DAY  MAY  BRISG  FORTH.  169 

♦'  Well." 

"  The  Marquis  left  Chagres  some  three  clays  ago." 

"  Well." 

"  And  is  since  dead  at  Dos  Hermanas." 

"Dead,"  said  the  girl,  repeating  the  word  slowly  several 
times,  as  if  trying  to  coaiprehend  its  meaning.  "  Dead — 
dead — dead  and  buried  ?" 

"  Dead  and  buried,"  said  I. 

All  at  once  a  twinkling  ray  of  reason,  like  the  first  star 
of  evening,  shot  up  into  her  eyes,  and  she  repeated  the 
■words  more  anxiously,  "  dead  and  buried." 

"  Dead  and  buried,"  said  I  again,  and  watched  her  closely 
all  the  while.  She  did  not  weep,  as  the  real  truth  came  gra- 
dually to  her  mind ;  she  did  not  show  signs  of  fear  or  sor- 
row, but  a  quiet  sentiment  of  peace  and  satisfaction  seemed 
to  be  settling  down  upon  her,  and  her  countenance  changed, 
even  as  had  her  brothers,  when  I  assured  him  that  she  still 
lived. 

'■  And  so,"  said  she,  eagerly,  almost  gladly,  as  it  seemed, 
•'  the  Marquis  is  dead — gone  away  to  be  with  the  spirits,  in 
the  spirit  world — is  this  so  ?" 

"  It  is,"  said  I.     "  I  have  seen  his  grave." 

"  Oh,  for  this,"  cried  she,  "  may  God  be  praised !  No 
matter  how  he  died — he  is  happy — he  is  with  the  blest. 
Now  I  shall  not  be  mad  any  longer.  Now  I  shall  love  him, 
and  it  will  not  make  me  mad.  Now  I  shall  love  him,  and 
no  earth-stain  shall  ever  come  upon  our  love,  to  bUist  it. 
Now  I  shall  love  him  for  ever,  and  shall  not  be  an  outcast 
for  it.  See  here,  sir,  you  are  married,  and  live  in  the  sanctity 
of  domestic  life,  and  know  not  from  what  a  chasm  I  am 
saved.  I  loved  this  man,  when  something  told  me  that  to 
have  declared  my  love  would  have  been  my  ruin,  and  brought 
tears  and  wretchedness  to  all  who  love  me.     And  this  was 


170  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

making  me  mad.  There  was  no  safety  but  in  flight;  and 
yet  I  seemed  to  be  flying  from  my  duty  to  poor  Angelo,  but 
God  kna\vsj[  could  not  help  it.  Had  it  been  otherwise,  we 
had  perished  together.  Now  my  love  is  in  heaven  ;  no 
blighting  curse  of  earth  can  reach  it.  Forgive  me  what 
seems  unworthy  in  this  confession  ;  could  you  see  me  as  I 
now  see  myself,  I  am  sure  you  would.  And  now  tell  me  of 
Angelo,  for  I  will  at  once  go  with  you  to  him.  Oh,  strange, 
joyful  transformation  ;  he  is  dearer  to  me  than  ever." 

"  But,  Mademoiselle,  your  brother  is  in  the  fort." 

"Ha!"- 

"  Arrested  on  suspicion  of  the  murder  of  the  Marquis." 

"  Good  God  !  from  what  are  we  saved  !" 

"Even  so,  Mademoiselle" — 

"And  if  I  had  yielded,  this  supposition  had  been  cor- 
rect." 

"  Then  you  believe  in  Angelo's  innocence  ?" 

Her  look,  her  triumphant  smile,  was  the  same  as  that 
with  which  her  brother  had  thrown  the  charge  from  him. 
She  saw  the  accusation  only  in  its  absurdity. 

"  My  brother  a  murderer,  and  without  a  certain  cause ! 
You  little  know  him  !  Many  a  hasty  blow  has  he  given,  but 
never  a  mortal  one  ;  many  a  life  has  he  saved,  and  many  a 
generous  deed  has  he  done  ;  nothing  mean  or  cowardly  can 
ever  come  from  him  !" 

And  yet,  thought  I  to  myself,  in  hot  blood  such  a  thing 
might  happen,  although  the  fond  eyes  of  a  sister's  love  could 
see  no  such  possibility. 

We  at  once  set  oft"  on  our  return  to  the  town,  picking  our 
way  along  the  narrow  path  leading  through  the  wood,  for 
the  twilight  is  of  short  duration  in  those  latitudes,  and  it 
was  now  quite  dark.  I  explained  to  Carlotta  more  fully  the 
position  of  Vitti,  and  the  necessity  for  his  immediate  release. 


WHAT  A  DAY  MAY  BRING  FORTH.  171 

Upon  one  thing  we  were  perfectly  agreed,  that  the  snake- 
tamer,  Avhose  name  turned  out  to  be  Lowry,  was  the  author 
of  the  murder,  if  such  had  been  committed ;  a  belief  in 
■which  I  was  greatly  strengthened,  upon  learning  the  fact 
that  the  Marquis  bore  about  his  person  effects  of  great 
value. 

It  is  a  principle  in  law  that  a  man  is  not  bound  to  crimi- 
nate himself,  and  I  do  not  see  why  a  writer  should  not  have 
the  privilege  of  putting  in  a  like  exemption  plea,  when  he  is 
liable  to  be  placed  in  a  ludicrous  or  undignified  position ; 
otherwise  I  might  feel  bound  to  relate  a  small  mishap  which 
occurred  to  myself  just  as  we  were  on  the  point  of  entering 
the  fort,  and  prevented  my  being  present  at  the  reunion  of 
Vitti  and  his  sister,  and  was  attended  likewise  with  sundry 
other  unpleasant  consequences,  I  might  define  it  as  consisting 
of  a  slide,  while  groping  a  little  in  advance  of  my  companion, 
through  the  "  storm  and  darkness"  which  had  succeeded  to 
our  late  golden  burst  of  sunshine,  and  its  silvery  wake  of 
star-light,  from  the  same  break  in  the  precipitous  bank  that 
liad  brought  Sampson  Vale's  adventure  to  so  abrupt  a  termi- 
nation. I  might  go  on  to  tell  how  I  was  not  equally  fortu- 
nate with  that  chivalric  gentleman,  but  went  tearing  through 
the  bushes  and  bnm]>ing  against  the  sharp  rocky  edges  in 
my  descent,  till  I  finally  was  brought  up  by  the  loose  round 
rocks  at  the  very  bottom  of  the  bluff.  How  I  lay  there 
insensible,  I  have  no  means  of  knowing  for  what  length  of 
time,  till  the  rising  tide,  lashing  my  temples,  restored  the 
brain  to  action,  and  made  it  cognizant  of  my  physical  state. 
How  I  then  essayed  to  stir,  and  did  succeed  in  creeping  a 
little  at  long  intervals  towards  where,  the  occasional,  for  the 
storm  of  rain  and  thunder  raged  unabated,  Hashes  of 
lightning  showed  me  was  the  native  town.  Suffering  greatly 
from  bodily   pain,  though   evidently  whole  as  yet  in  limb, 


172  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS.^ 

Low  I  was  all  that  night  in  the  same  situation,  and  did  not 
touch  the  welcome  mud  of  the  old  town  till  the  sun,  who 
seemed  on  that  morning  to  have  come  up  for  me  alone, 
sent  his  advance  beams  over  the  vapory  hills  before  me,  and 
made  the  growling  storm  retreat  before  him,  and  yet,  how 
during  the  long  hours — I  am  proud  to  be  able  to  write  this — 
my  thoughts  were  not  wholly  of  my  weary  self,  but  left  me 
often  and  went  up  to  that  decaying  house,  whore  two 
noble  and  loving  hearts  had  that  night  met,  as  I  could  not 
but  feel  in  a  great  measure  through  my  means,  and  revelled 
in  the  infinite  joy  of  that  reunion  ;  how  they  went  often 
further  still,  and  were  with  those  dear  ones,  quiet  and  snug 
in  the  saloons  of  the  Falcon,  cleaving  the  rough  waves 
of  the  Caribbean.  What  was  bodily  sutfering  to  me  then  ? 
All  this  and  much  more  I  might  relate,  but,  as  I  have 
already  said,  I  do  not  see  why  a  writer  should  be  held,  even 
though  he  profess  in  all  his  narratives  to  keep  nothing  back 
from  his  dear  friend,  the  reader,  to  place  himself  in  a  comic 
pillory  from  which  he  may  not  find  it  easy  to  descend,  and 
I  feel  quite  sure  that  that  friend  would  not  exact  it  merely 
for  his  momentary  gratification. 

Be  it  enough,  then,  for  me  to  say  that  a  very  early  hour 
of  that  morning  beheld  ine  on  the  quarter-deck  of  the  Kalph 
Rivas,  fortified  with  a  good  breakfast,  and  smoking  a 
genuine  "  habaguann"  in  perfect  peace  and  quietude  of  mind. 
This  mental  condition  will  be  understood  when  I  add,  that  I 
had  received,  but  a  moment  before  starting,  a  most  affec- 
tionate letter  from  Vitti,  expressing  great  solicitude  as  to  my 
condition — confound  him  ! — after  my  mishap  of  the  previous 
night,  and  informing  me  of  the  safe  arrival  of  himself  and 
sister  on  board  tlie  steamshi]>  "  Crescent  City." 


AN  OFFICIAL  DISCLOSURE.  173 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

AN    OFFICIAL    DISCLOSURE. 

4i  A'ER  the  glad  -vvators  of  the  dark  bkie  sea,"  borne 
^  onward  by  her  swift-revolving  wheels,  as  if  they  were 
truly  the  broad  wings  of  the  steam-god,  goes  the  home-bound 
Falcon  with  her  precious  freight.  Up  along  the  still  surface 
of  the  sultry  river,  with  its  thick-laid  hem  of  deepest  verdure, 
we  take  again  our  toilsome  way.  Dos  Hermanas  is  behind 
us;  and  so,  before  the  day  is  over — another  such  day  as  our 
fii-st  upon  the  river,  but  varied  with  new  sights  and  wonders 
of  winged  forms  and  "  bloom  and  greenery" — is  A''amos 
Vamos,  Pena  Blanca,  Bajio  Soldado,  Aqua  Salud,  Barro 
Colorado,  and  perhaps  other  places  of  less  note  in  history, 
whose  names  I  do  not  now  remember ;  and  a  little  after  sun- 
down we  arrive  at  the  village  of  Palenquilla,  a  point  on  the 
river  some  fifteen  or  eighteen  miles  above  Dos  Hermanas. 
This  is  a  genuine  stopping-place ;  and  one  would  think,  from 
the  sights  and  sounds  along  its  water  line,  that  the  very  same 
crowd  of  the  unterrified  whom  we  had  left  at  Gatun,  two 
nights  previous,  were  here  assembled,  so  similar  are  all  these 
crowds  in  their  general  features.  But  Palenquilla  of  itself  is 
not  (jatun — not  exactly.  There  are  not  so  many  native  huts, 
but  there  are  tico  American  hotels ;  and  on  the  night  of  our 
arrival  there  were  several  tents  pitched,  and  fires  built,  and 
lanterns  lit,  up  and  down  its  long  sloping  banks ;  and  in  the 
clear  but  feeble  star-light,  one  might  easily  have  taken  it  for 


174  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

a  great  rendezvous  of  tlie  gipsies,  tinkers,  and  all  the  strolling 
spirits  of  this  restless  world. 

It  is  a  theory  of  certain  modern  naturalists,  that  the  dis- 
tribution of  rain  over  the  American  continents,  owing  to 
their  form  and  situation  in  mid  ocean,  is  far  greater,  on  an 
average,  than  on  the  continents  of  the  Old  World ;  that,  in 
consequence  of  this  extraordinary  humidity,  the  vegetable 
kingdom  flourishes  to  a  degree  unknown  elsewhere,  while 
the  animal  is  proportionally  diminutive  and  feeble.  Thus 
the  alligator  is  a  lesser  representative  of  the  crocodile  of  the 
Nile;  the  puma  of  the  African  lion  ;  the  lama  of  the  camel. 
Nowhere  is  one  more  struck  with  the  truth  of  this  theory, 
applicable,  at  all  events,  to  the  lower  latitudes,  than  while 
journeying  on  the  river  Chagres.  Here,  during  an  eternal 
summer,  bloom  and  wither  such  immense  varieties  of  the 
vegetable  world,  that  the  unpractised  eye  is  wearied  in  its 
attempt  to  select  the  parts  of  the  wondrous  whole,  which 
seems  to  have  no  beginning  and  no  end,  but  to  i-oll  on  like 
the  ocean, 

"Dark-heaving,  boundless,  enJless,  and  sublime;" 

and  whether  swayed  by  the  gale,  or  clashing  beneath  the 
thunder-bolt,  or  murnmring  gratefully  to  the  gentle  lappings 
of  the  summer  wind,  is  equally  "  a  glorious  mirror  where  the 
Almighty's  form  "  is  seen.  And  here,  too,  beneath  the  shade 
of  these  majestic  monarchs  of  the  wood,  the  mango,  the 
sycamore,  and  palm,  man,  the  highest  style  of  the  animal, 
crawls  languidly  upon  the  bosom  of  his  mother  earth,  un- 
mindful, as  it  seems,  of  his  glorious  destiny,  "content  to 
share  a  coward  life  with  venomous  insects  and  the  beasts  of 
the  jungle."  Such,  at  any  rate,  has  been  heretofore  the 
character  of  these  wretclied  natives.  Whether,  with  the 
infusion  of  new  blood  amongst  them,  there  shall  come  more 


^A   OFFICIAL  DISCLOSURE.  Il5 

subtleness    to    their   braius,   or  quicksilver  to   their  joints, 
remains  to  be  seen. 

I  had  passed  a  sluggishly  pleasant  day,  not  unmarked  by 
certain  quiet  and  rather  humorous  incidents.  We  had  plenty 
of  company  in  other  boats  on  the  river,  and  plenty  of  droll 
rencontres  at  the  native  ranches  on  its  banks.  These  gold- 
seekers  were,  in  one  respect,  like  the  full-fed  priests  we  read 
about,  who,  while  they  live  in  shadowy  hopes  of  the  spiritual 
enjoyments  of  another  world,  are  by  no  means  disdainful  of 
the  corporeal  pleasures  of  this,  and  seemed  bent  on  having 
their  full  share  of  the  passing  fun.  But  it  was  more  the  calm 
delight  of  finding  myself  surrounded  by  my  quondam  friends, 
and  losing,  as  it  were,  my  weary  identity  in  the  thorough 
appreciation  of  their  rough,  frank,  genial,  or  enthusiastic 
natures,  that  made  me  so  sluggishl}'-  calm  and  cheerful.  It 
is  truly  a  glorious  privilege  that  we  possess  of  being  able,  at 
times,  when  the  realities  of  our  own  one  life  seem  to  press 
hard  upon  us,  to  throw  ourselves,  so  to  speak,  into  the  arms 
of  happier  or  more  buoyant  natures,  and  live  a  little  while 
in  their  lives.  We  are  sad  from  solitary  broodings ;  and  so 
long  as  no  light  comes  to  us  from  without,  tiie  image  of  the 
world  on  our  dull  brain  is  hung  with  gloomy  curtains.  But 
let  us  break  away  from  ourselves,  and  go  into  the  thronged 
street,  and  how  often  is  it  that  a  face,  radiant  with  innocence, 
hope,  and  joy,  shall  beam  upon  us,  there  dissipating,  by  its 
brightness,  our  gloomy  fancies,  and  kindling,  as  with  a  torch, 
a  ruddy  fire  at  the  hearthside  of  our  musings.  I  have 
thought  that  even  the  criminal  on  the  scaff'old,  catching 
sight  of  some  childish,  happy  expression  in  the  crowd  below, 
might  not  feel  himself  so  very  forlorn,  trusting,  perhaps 
vaguely,  that  the  long  madness  of  his  soul  might  yet  be  over ; 
and,  in  the  far  eternity  of  revolving  events,  he  might  possibly 
get  back  to  some  stand-point  whence  he  should  look  upon 


176  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

creation  with  a  cooler,  healthier  brain.  If,  as  has  been 
asserted  by  certain  modern  statesmen,  there  is  a  community 
in  mankind's  destiny,  politically  speaking,  there  is  certainly 
no  less,  so  far  as  his  moral  and  social  happiness  is  concerned. 
But,  heigh-ho  !  where  are  we  getting  to  ?  What  has  all  this 
transcendentalism  to  do  with  the  Isthmus  ? 

The  Major — I  have  him  now  before  me  as  he  was  during 
all  that  day  ;  his  fine  eye  catching  every  object  and  form  of 
beauty,  and  flashing  with  sincerest  inward  pleasure,  while 
his  words  of  flame  darted  intot)ur  hearts.  His  was  a  mind 
that  had  kept  great  company  ;  and  from  its  well  stored  depths 
the  choicest  -passages  of  tlie  old  poets  came  bubbling  up 
always  at  the  right  moment.  He  had  the  soul  of  a  child — 
hopeful  and  enthusiastic.  He  was  a  companion  to  go  round 
the  world  with,  and  make  one  wish  at  the  end  that  the 
voyage  had  been  twice  as  long. 

As  for  Tom,  the  shakes  being  oft',  he  was  occupied  prin- 
cipally in  taking  minute  doses  of  quinine,  in  draughts  of 
a  dark-colored  liquid,  which  Colonel  Allen  poured  out  of  a 
four  gallon  demijohn  at  frequent  intervals,  and  which 
smelt  strongly  of  rum  and  burnt  molasses,  but  which  Mon- 
sieur Crapolet  afiirmed  was  brown  sherry.  The  Colonel  and 
Monsieur  Crapolet  likewise  partook  of  the  same  beverage 
quite  often,  diluted  of  course  with  a  little  river  water, 
although  the  Colonel  seemed  to  cast  a  certain  imputation 
upon  the  wine,  derogatory  to  its  quality,  by  observing  with 
a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  and  a  slight  tremor  in  his  entire 
frame,  immediately  subsequent  to  a  heavy  dose,  that  "  the 
subscriber  was  constitutionally  opposed  to  bad  liquor."  I 
noticed  that  Judge  Smithers  excused  himself  from  partaking 
by  an  insinuation  that  there  was  too  much  of  the  monkey 
about  it,  but  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  he  made  use  of  the 
term  "monkey"  in  this  connexion  as  a  mere  figure  of  speech. 


.4.Y  OFFICIAL  DISCLOSURE.  177 

"  Speaking  of  fever,"  said  Judge  Smitbers — "  I  say,  Allen, 
are  you  ever  troubled  nowadays  v\'hh  your  old  complaint  of 
typhoid  ?" 

"  No,"  said  the  suUscriber,  briefly, 

"I  mean,"  pursued  the  Judge,  "the  periodical  attack 
■which  you  were  subject  to  while  in  the  State  House,  at  Jeffer- 
son City." 

"  The  State  House  story  !"  cried  we  all. 

"  It's  not  much  of  a  story,"  said  Colonel  Allen. 

"  But  very  characteristic,"  said  the  Judge. 

"  Debouchez !"  said  Monsieur  Crapolet,  with  a  gesture, 
expressive  of  thirsty  impatience,  thinking  probably,  that  if 
we  had  got  to  have  the  story,  the  sooner  it  was  begun  the 
better. 

"  Is  it  to  be  a  true  story  ?"  inquired  Tom. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  Judge,  "this  is  one  of  Allen's  true 
stories." 

"  As  if  the  subscriber  ever  told  any  that  were  not,"  ob- 
served the  Colonel,  waggishly. 

"As  if,"  continued  the  Judge,  following  him  up,  and  using 
a  horse  phrase,  "  an  editor  ever  .shied  at  the  truth." 

"Debouchez  !"  shouted  Monsieur  Crapolet  agaiji. 

"  Well,  then,  gentlemen,"  began  the  Colonel,  "  but  really 
it  is  nothing  of  a  story — you  see  the  subscriber  was  once 
appointed  to  an  office,  in  the  State  House,  at  Jefferson  City." 

"  Governor  ?"  inquired  Tom. 

"  No,"  said  the  Colonel,  "  but  it's  nothing  of  a  story — 
Judge,  I  would  much  rather  you  would  tell  it." 

"  Hey,  g'long  there,  what  are  you  'bout  I"  said  the  Judge, 
with  the  air  of  a  man  taking  a  bluebottle  from  the  nigh 
leader's  ear, 

"  Well,  then,"  began  the  Colonel  again  ;  "  the  subscriber 
had  an  office  in  the  State  House,  under  the  Governor — a  very 


178  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

respectable  office,  wliicli  he  was  induced  to  accept  to  accom- 
modate Lis  friends  and  tlie  public." 

"  The  Colonel  is  always  ready  to  sacrifice  himself  for  the 
good  of  his  friends,"  observed  the  Judge,  in  explanation. 

"  To  illustrate  which  the  aforesaid  will  have  the  pleasure 
of  potating  with  his  fellow  vovager,  Monsieur  Crapolet," 
said  the  Colonel,  thereby  drawing  our  attention  to  the 
unhappy  Frenchman,  who  sat  gazing  gloomily'  at  the 
water  alongside,  as  if  it  were  a  very  dismal  subject  for  con- 
templation. 

"  The  State  House  story  !"  cried  we  all  again,  as  soon  as  the 
potations  were  well  over — not  at  all  disposed  to  relinquish 
our  treat. 

"  It's  no  story  any  way,"  persisted  Allen,  "  the  amount  of 
it  is — the  subscriber  was  once  in  the  State  House  at  Jeffer- 
son City,  employed  there,  you  understand,  in  a  very  respect- 
able though  slightly  subordinate  capacity,  a  tiling  he  was 
induced  to  consent  to  by  the  importunities  of  his  numerous 
friends,  and  being  there,  you  see — with  great  pleasure." 

The  last  observation  was  addressed  to  Monsieur  Crapolet, 
who  had  caught  the  Colonel's  eye,  and  was  going  through 
certain  pantomiinics,  intended  in  a  delicate  way  to  suggest  to 
him,  the  Colonel,  the  pro2:)riety  of  taking  some  refreshment 
in  the  way  of  drink  before  proceeding  with  bis  narrative. 

"  It's  no  use,"  said  Judge  Smithers,  hopelessly,  as  the 
Colonel  accepted  a  generous  quenclier,  "  I  see  that  I  shall 
have  to  tell  the  story  myself  Previous  to  Allen's  acceptance 
of  the  office  of  clerk  to  the  Seci-etary  of  State  at  Jefferson 
City,  he  held  an  equally  subordinate  office  in  the  printing- 
house  of  the  American  Bald  Eagle  and  Poor  Devil's  Advo- 
cate at  St.  Louis,  namely  that  of  items  aud  bill  collector.  It 
has  been  suspected  that  the  numerous  little  difficulties 
therein  recorded  of  a  certain  gentleman  well  known  in  our 


AN  OFFICIAL  DISCLOSURE.  179 

midst,  were  no  otlier  than  the  romantic  doings  of  the  Colo- 
nel himself  about  town.  Under  the  inspiration  of  his  pen 
the  city  became  quite  another  place  from  what  it  ever  was 
before,  or  ever  will  be  again." 

"  Fact,"  murmured  Allen,  admiringly. 

"  But,"  continued  the  Judge,  "  it  was  in  his  capacity  of 
bill  collector,  that  the  Colonel  shone  with  especial  brilliancy. 
Soon  after  the  first  of  January  it  was  the  custom  of  the  pro- 
prietors to  send  the  Colonel  forth " 

"  From  the  Eden  of  the  sanctum,"  observed  Allen,  paren- 
thetically. 

"  To  meet  the  smiles  and  frowns  of  a  heartless  world- 
armed  with  a  pile  of  bills,  a  description  of  weapon  not  usually 
of  much  avail  in  captivating  the  affections  of  men.  Now, 
whatever  was  the  result  of  these  adventurous  sallies  to  the 
aforesaid  proprietors,  one  thing  is  certain,  that  the  Colonel 
fattened  upon  them.  The  fact  is  when  he  didn't  get  money, 
he  got  a  drink— and  not  unfrequently  got  very  drunk." 

"He's  cool,"  said  Allen,  who  happened  at  the  time  to  be 
hob-nobbing  with  Monsieur  Crapolet,  and  whose  complexion 
did  not  bespeak  any  great  degree  of  coolness  in  his  corpo- 
real system  at  all  events. 

"  To  relinquish  a  post  like  this,"  continued  the  Judge, 
"went  sorely  against  the  Colonel's  grain.  But,  however,  he 
did  it." 

"  He  did  it,"  groaned  Allen. 

"  In  his  new  situation  he  didn't  get  many  punches." 

"Meaning  the  mixiure  — so  called,"  interpreted  Allen. 

"  And  yet  strange  to  say,  this  abstemious  course  of  life 
did  not  seem  to  agree  with  the  Colonel's  constitution, 
for  during  his  continuance  at  the  State  House  he  was  troubled 
with  a  periodical  attack  of  fever,  which  was  sure  to  befal 
him  soon  ai'ter  the  first  of  January." 


TI80  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"Always  on  the  memorable  eighth." 

"  And  which  made  it  invariably  necessary  for  him  to 
return  home.  It  was  a  little  curious  how  this  fever  atfected 
him.  He  was  quite  thin  and  sick  on  leaving  JeJYersou  City, 
looking  in  part  as  if  he  had  dieted — and  his  enemies  actually 
affirmed  that  such  was  the  case — on  rhubarb  for  a  week 
previous.  But  when  he  came  back  after  an  absence  of  a 
few  weeks  only,  he  was  robust  and  healthy-looking — not  to 
say,  red  even  in  the  face,  as  if  he  had  during  all  this  time 
lived  upon  nothing  but  brandy  and  water  and  hot  punches, 
which  his  enemies  likewise  accused  him  of.  For  two  years 
the  secretary  submitted  to  this  misfortune  of  Allen's  without 
a  word  of  complaint." 

"  Parbleu  1"  observed  Monsieur  Orapolet,  shrugging  his 
shoulders,  as  much  as  to  inquire  what  the  dragon  he  could  say. 

"  About  the  first  of  January  of  the  third  year,  Allen's 
health  began  to  fail  again.  He  observed  to  the  Secretary 
that  he  must  go  home,  that  he  could  not  somehow  support 
the  climate  of  Jeliersou  City  for  a  longer  period  than  ten  or 
eleven  months.     It  was  very  strange,  but  there  it  was — 

"  '  But,'  suggested  the  Secretary,  '  it  is  stranger  still  that 
you  should  always  return,  looking  so  well.' 

"  '  The  subscriber  is  exceedingly  afraid  this  time  that  he'll 
never  recover  his  health  sufficiently  to  come  back  at  all,' 
returned  Allen. 

"  So  when  the  eighth  arrived,  Allen  having  pre  /iously  inform- 
ed the  Secretary  that  he  had  a  presentiment  that  he  should 
not  live  the  night  out  if  he  remained  over  that  day,  took  his 
departure  for  St.  Louis.  After  lie  had  been  gone  a  Aveek,  the 
Secretary,  '  smelling  a  rat'  perhaps,  thought  he  would  send 
an  embassy  to  inquire  after  his  health  and  report  progress. 
Well,  they  arrived — there  were  two  of  them — at  Allen's 
hotel  at  St.  Louis,  and  inquired  how  the  Colonel  was.     The 


AN  OFFICIAL  DISCLOSURE.  181 

barkeeper  informed  them  that  the  individual  in  question  was 
a  leetle  under  the  weather  about  dinner-time,  but  would 
not  probably  be  sick  enough  to  retire  to  bed  before  night. 

"'  He  is  able  to  sit  up,  then,  a  portion  of  the  day?'  in(|uired 
they. 

" '  Well,  he  stands  it  as  long  as  he  can,'  was  the  reply. 

"  '  We  are  from  Jetlerson  City,'  said  they,  '  and  learnt  of 
his  sickness  at  that  place.' 

" '  The  Colonel  is  a  case,'  was  the  somewhat  figurative 
response." 

"  Ticket  was  the  word,"  interposed  Allen. 

"  Well,  they  finally  asked  if  they  could  see  him,  and  were 
requested,  in  reply,  to  hold  on  a  bit,  and  they'd  see  and  hear 
him,  too,  to  their  entire  satisfaction.  It  was  not  hng  before 
our  hero  was  set  down  at  the  door,  and  came  in  with  the 
roll  of  the  hack  still  upon  him,  shouting  in  a  thick  and 
sonorous  tone  of  voice,  that  '  all  the  world  was  a  stage-coach, 
and  all  the  men,  women,  and  band-boxes  merolj'  passengers 
therein.' " 

"The  Judge  has  got  that  part  correct,  any  Low,"  said 
Allen  with  a  wink. 

"The  embassy  rubbed  their  eyes,  but  it  was  no  ghost 
whom  they  beheld  ;  neither  did  the  man  look  sick,  at  least 
not  according  to  the  common  acceptation  of  the  word,  so 
they  ventured  to  call  him  by  name.  '  Ha  !'  said  the  Colonel, 
on  recognising  his  old  companions  at  Jefterson  City,  and 
little  suspecting  their  errand,  '  you  have  arrived  at  the  very 
moment..  T  am  to  have  a  bit  of  a  supper  directly,  with  a 
few  friends.  You  see  I  have  been  out  all  day  on  a  collect- 
ing tour,  and  not  having  been  very  successful  in  filling  my 
pockets  with  rocks,  am  not  exactly  in  good  ballast-trim.  As 
William  says  : — 


182  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

'  "  What,  not  one  hit 
From  Tripoli,  from  Mexico,  and  England, 
From  Lisbon,  Barbary,  and  India, 
And  not  one  vessel  'scape  the  dreadful  touch 
Of  merchant-marring  rocks  I'  " 

"  Here  was  a  case  for  you  !" 

"  Quite  a  subject  for  Hogarth,"  said  Allen. 

"  But  to  conclude.  The  embassy  accepted  the  polite  invi- 
tation ;  Allen,  to  give  the  devil  his  due — without  any  figure 
of  speech — gave  them  a  liandsome  repast.  Towards  the 
small  hours,  the  Colonel  was  somehow  got  to  bed  ;  and  the 
next  morning  our  diplomats,  completely  won  over  to  the 
enemy,  were  on  their  way  back  to  JeSerson  City. 

"  '  Well,'  said  the  Secretary  to  them  on  their  return,  with 
a  knowing  look, '  how  did  you  find  Allen  ; — pretty  sick,  eh  V 

"  '  He  was  indeed,  said  they,  solemnly. 

" '  Have  a  doctor  V  inquired  the  Secretary. 

"  *  There  were  two  physicians  in  attendance,'  replied  the 
embassy  (which  was  true,  for  among  the  Colonel's  guests 
were  two  knights  of  the  lancet). 

"  '  Able  to  sit  up  V  persisted  the  Secretary. 

" '  Well,  hardly,'  was  the  reply.  '  We  left  St.  Louis  at 
noon,  and  he  had  not  been  able  to  risfe  at  that  houi'.' 

"  The  Secretary  appeared  to  be  satisfied,  and  nothing 
further  was  said  at  the  time.  13ut  the  cream  of  the  mat- 
ter was,  that  the  Secretary  had  slipped  out  to  St.  Louis, 
immediately  after  the  departure  of  his  friends,  and  had 
been  present  with  them  at  the  hotel  in  a  kind  of  incog., 
and  was  of  course  aware  of  the  entire  transaction.  The 
Dutch-uncleism  of  the  Colonel,  in  rather  avoiding  a  strict- 
ly veracious  account  of  his  sufferings,  on  his  return  to 
Jefferson  City,  was  really  delightful.  The  joke,  however, 
was  never  fully  acknowledged  in  public  until  on  a  certain 


AN  OFFICIAL  DISCLOSURE.  183 

occasion,  when  our  four  characters  happened  to  be  indulging 
together,  the  Secretary,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  observed 
to  the  barkeeper,  that  he  would  take  a  small  dash  of  '  Ty- 
phoid '  in  his.  An  explanation  followed,  and  the  result  was 
another  supper  at  the  Colonel's  expense,  where  the  subject 
was  fully  discussed,  and  pronounced  highly  discreditable  to 
Missouri  politics.  Now,  Allen,  you  rascal,  don't  you  feel 
ashamed  of  yourself  ?" 

"  I  trust,"  said  the  Colonel,  with  a  penitent  air,  "  that  the 
thing  may  be  set  down  as  among  the  foibles  of  youth,  and 
on  no  account  be  allowed  to  go  any  further." 

"  Of  course  not !"  said  we  all. 


184  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

6CKNE    AT    PALEXQUILLA. 

IT  is  an  old  habit  of  mine — so  old  as  to  be  almost  a  second 
nature — that  of  prying  beneath  the  outer  surface  of 
things,  after  a  concealed  mystery ;  of  getting,  as  it  were, 
behind  the  scenes  in  every  act  of  life  that  I  thought  particu- 
larly worthy  of  my  attention,  that  I  might  learn  something 
of  the  motives  which  led  to  such  greatness  or  glitter ;  that 
I  might  weigh  calmly  these  palpable  results  in  my  mind, 
and  decide  for  myself  how  much  was  real,  and  how  much 
false ;  how  often  the  heart  was  in  the  action,  or  in  the  most 
melancholy  and  perverse  opposition.  And  especially  in 
visiting  a  new  place,  have  I  been  wont  to  seek  for  something 
not  Avritten  plainly  on  its  front — something  of  its  inner  life, 
something  characteristic  of  the  spot,  that  should  set  its 
mark  upon  it  in  my  memory,  and  make  it  unlike  all  other 
places  to  me ;  something  which,  when  its  name  was  men- 
tioned, should  instantly  start  up  before  me,  the  one  bold 
figure  of  the  picture,  to  which  the  surrounding  objects 
should  form  a  shadowy  back-ground.  But  in  this  I  have 
not  always  been  successful.  I  have  spent  days  in  certain 
spots,  watching  long  and  wearily  for  a  glimpse  of  that 
subtle  revelation,  as  one  sits  sometimes  beside  a  great  paint- 
ing, striving,  oh,  how  vainly !  to  catch  something  of  the 
inspiration  of  him  who  conceived  and  executed  it,  in  the 
glow  of  which  presence  all  its  most  delicate  beauties  should 


SCENE  AT  PALENQUILLA.  185 

start  forth ;  and  yet  have  gone  away,  and  not  having 
felt  and  grown,  as  it  were,  witli  and  into  them,  have  soon 
forgotten  them  altogether.  And  at  other  times  my  nature 
has  so  mingled  itself  with  the  deep  earnestness  of  the  scene, 
that  I  never — never  can  forget  it. 

It  was  a  stormy  evening;  the  rain  fell  in  merciless  torrents. 
Among  the  thick  forests  on  the  opposite  bank  it  plunged 
with  a  heavy  crashing  sound.  The  yellow  streams  rushed  in 
foaming  impetuosity  down  the  sloping  hill-side  of  Palen- 
quilla,  and  gave  a  fresh  impulse  to  the  already  maddened 
current  of  the  river.  It  was  no  easy  task  to  keep  a  footing 
in  the  ascent  leading  to  the  hotel  farthest  from  our  barge, 
for  while  the  wind  did  its  best  to  overthrow  you,  the  running 
water  and  the  slippery  soil  under  foot  contributed  equally  to 
the  difficulties  of  locomotion.  Nevertheless,  prompted  by 
something  which,  for  lack  of  a  better  term,  you  may  call 
curiosity,  I  was  bent  on  reaching  that  edifice  ;  and  as  sleep  in 
our  barge,  owing  to  the  social  peculiarities  of  our  ^neighbors, 
was  out  of  the  question,  had  quite  made  up  my  mind,  if  I 
did  succeed  in  reaching  it,  to  pass  the  night  there.  Sleep — 
yes,  to  court  that — not  rest,  but  sleep — was  to  be  tlie  end  of 
my  toilsome  journey,  as  I  thought.  Sleep — I  did  not  find 
it  there,  but  there  w'as  one  who  did ;  one  who  closed  liis 
little  eyes  for  ever  on  the  weary  world  that  night,  and  was 
with  the  angels  when  he  awoke. 

Ugh !  I  have  stumbled  over  something,  but  'tis  nothing 
but  a  pig :  it  might  have  been  something  worse ;  yes,  and  it 
might  have  been  sometliing  a  good  deal  better,  a  log  for 
instance,  and  then  its  squealing  wouldn't  have  awakened 
such  a  deafening  chorus  from  the  dogs,  who  ought  to  keep 
perfectly  quiet  or  be  simply  whining  on  a  night  like  this. 
And  ugh!  again,  for  mishaps  never  come  singly  ;  it  is  my 
head  I  have  hit  this  time,  against  a  beam  lying  on  the  top 


186  LIFE  OA'  THE  ISTHMUS. 

of  posts,  which  may  be  part  of  the  skeleton  of  an  awning  to 
some  building  which  was  to  have  been  erected,  for  all  that  I 
ever  found  out  to  the  contrary.  Those  big  lanterns  are  not 
such  ridiculous  affairs  after  all.  But  here  we  are — this  is 
the  hotel. 

Somehow,  it  is  not  a  hotel  suggestive  of  a  cosy  night. 
There  is,  so  to  speak,  a  lack  of  those  substantial,  home-like, 
thoroughly  comfortable  features  which  are  associated  in  our 
minds  with  the  idea  of  a  model  hotel.  There  is  no  great 
wide  door,  opening  into  a  broad  well-lighted  hall,  with  a 
winding  staircase  leading  to  other  stories,  where  are  snug 
chambers  with  the  anthracite  throwing  a  kindly  glow  upon 
the  soft  carpet,  and  neat  furniture,  and  snowy  counter- 
pane of  the  bed.  There  is  no  parlor  where  the  ladies  have 
assembled  foi-  a  hop ;  no  other  parlor  where  grey-headed 
men  sit  gazing  at  the  coal  fire,  with  the  morning  or  evening 
newspaper  upon  their  knees,  and  indulge  in  reminiscences 
of  the  last  war ;  observing  that  when  the  news  of  peace 
arrived  it  was  a  sloppy  night,  very  much  such  a  night  as 
this,  in  fact.  There  is  no  snuggery  known  as  the  bar-room, 
reeking  with  odors  of  tobacco,  lemon  peel,  and  fragrant  old 
Jamaica,  where  young  men  in  plaid  trowsers,  many-pocketed 
coats,  flat-brimmed  hats,  and  neckclotlis  with  square  ends,  sit 
and  smoke  and  drink,  and  smoke  and  drink  again.  There 
is  no  full-fed,  ruddy-visaged  landlord,  whom  you  soon  get  to 
know  by  the  familiar  name  of  "  old  Peter,"  to  bid  you  wel- 
come with  as  much  cordiality,  and  order  John's  attention  to 
your  luggage  with  as  much  satisfaction,  as  if  he  had  been 
expecting  you  for  a  month,  and  felt  really  very  much  relieved 
that  you  had  at  last  arrived.  But  then  it  is  such  a  hotel  as 
one  would  expect,  knowing  that  it  was  originally  a  native 
ranche,  and  that  the  main  building,  wings,  and  similar 
extensive  additions  which  were  to  have  been  made  to  it, 


SCENE  AT  PALENQUILLA  187 

were  not  yet  begun.  It  lias  one  room,  which  must  be  some 
twelve  feet  square,  lighted  by  a  tallow  candle  on  the  usual 
board,  a  notched  pole  leading  to  the  attic,  the  customary- 
furniture  in  the  way  of  boxes  and  logs,  a  ground  floor  it  is 
true,  but  only  partially  appropriated  by  the  puddles.  It 
seems  to  be  taking  care  of  itself,  for  no  one  takes  any  notice 
of  me  as  I  enter,  and  indeed  there  is  no  one  inside  to  do  so  ; 
and  to  get  in  at  all  I  am  obliged  to  i-emove  the  arm  of  a 
gentleman  who  is  barricading  the  door,  and  who  is  very 
sallow,  thin,  and  shaky,  but  habited  in  white  pantaloons  and 
a  black  dress  coat,  and  looking  like  a  man  who  had  put  on  the 
last  remnants  of  his  bravery  to  die.  I  observed  jovially  to 
this  gentleman  that  it  is  great  weather,  and  think  that  I 
made  an  allusion  to  "  young  ducks  "  in  the  same  connex- 
ion ;  but  he  is  past  taking  any  notice  of  such  trifling,  or  of 
anything  else  as  to  that,  although  he  afterwards  turns  out  to 
be  the  proprietor  of  the  place.  When  this  truth  comes  home 
to  me,  I  propose  taking  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water.  He 
answers  me,  "  There's  brandy,"  without  making  any  sign  to 
show  where,  or  indeed  looking  in  any  direction  at  all,  so 
that  I  am  under  the  necessity  of  hunting  it  up  myself.  The 
ring  of  the  dime  upon  the  board  in  payment  is  equally  pow- 
erless to  arouse  him, — from  what  ?  perhaps  from  a  vision  of 
scenes  and  faces  far  enough  away.  I  next  propose,  but  this 
time  to  myself,  retiring  for  the  night,  and,  scraping  the  mud 
from  my  boots  as  far  as  practicable,  and  assuring  myself  of 
the  steadiness  of  the  stick  in  advance,  take  my  way  to  the 
attic. 

I  must  have  been  very  tired  and  sleepy,  for  I  can  only 
recollect  one  moment  when  the  cracking  of  the  cane  floor 
beneath  my  step  chimed  in  beautifully  with  the  pattering  of 
the  heavy  rain-drops  on  the  roof,  and  I  think  slumber  seized 
me  even  as  I  settled  down  upon  my  primitive  couch.     I  had 


188  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

hardly  lot  myself,  as  tlie  expression  is,  when  I  was  again 
roused  to  consciousness  by  voices  in  the  apartment  below. 
The  first  was  th.at  of  a  woman,  low  and  shrill,  impressing 
me  as  coming  from  a  heart  in  bitterest  warfare  with  its 
destiny,  and  curiously  at  variance  with  the  lulling  sound  of 
the  rain,  and  the  dull,  heavy,  mournful  gustiness  of  the 
wind. 

"  Oh,  John,"  it  cried  in  tones  of  agony,  "  do  not  let  him 
die,  he  is  my  little  angel !  John,  oh,  I  cannot  let  him  die !" 

"  Hush,  dear,"  said  another  voice,  the  rough  hard  voice  of 
a  man  ;  "  why  should  we  ask  to  have  him  spared  ?  Has 
our  life  been  so  very  pleasant  that  we  should  pray  for  a  like 
boon  for  him .?" 

The  words,  and  the  tone  in  which  they  were  uttered  more 
than  the  words  themselves,  revealed  to  me  a  picture,  sudden- 
ly illuminated  as  it  were  by  a  flash  of  Heaven's  lightning,  in 
which  I  noted  all  the  details  of  one  of  those  unhappy  lives 
so  commonly  led  by  the  sensitive  and  poor.  It  was  with  no 
hope  of  turning  back  the  tide  of  hurrying  events,  and  yet 
certainly  with  no  idle  curiosity,  that  I  crept  along  over  the 
cane  floor  of  my  chamber  towards  the  aperture,  where  I 
could  leisurely  inspect  the  scene  below.  Oh,  what  would  I 
not  have  given  for  the  power  and  appliances  of  the  painter, 
to  have  stamped  its  lineaments  upon  the  canvas,  even  as  I 
saw  them  there  !  A  man  and  woman  had  entered,  and  were 
seated  side  by  side  on  two  rude  boxes,  stationed  in  a  corner 
of  the  apartment,  which  was  possibly  the  most  comfortable 
locale,  if  such  an  epithet  may  be  applied  to  premises  so 
utterly  wet  and  cheerless.  These  two  persons  seemed  in  full 
possession  of  the  house.  The  proprietor  had  either  gone 
out,  or  was  coiled  away  to  sleep  in  some  corner  hidden  to 
my  view.  A  second  glance  revealed  a  third  person,  a  child 
of  apparently  not  more   than    five   or  six   summers,  whose 


SCENE  AT  PALENQUILLA.  189 

emaciated  and  spasmodic  frame  was  almost  wholly  con- 
cealed by  tlie  protecting  arms  of  the  man,  evidently  his 
father.  This  group  of  three  was  so  disposed,  with  the 
feeble  candle-light  falling  full  upon  them,  that,  in  my  desire 
to  read  their  story  in  their  faces,  I  almost  immediately  saw 
their  each  minutest  line,  while  all  the  world  beside  became 
nothing  but  the  blackest  void,  and  my  ear  ceased  to  take 
note  of  the  rain  and  gusty  wind,  and  heard  nothing  but  the 
outpourings  of  these  forlorn  and  seemingly  forgotten  spirits. 

The  man  was  apparently  rather  under  what  is  termed  the 
middle  age,  of  small  stature,  wasted  and  thin,  as  if  from 
long  care  and  self-denial.  His  attire,  even  in  the  abandon 
of  that  out-of-the-way  spot,  somehow  bespoke  the  gentleman, 
and  just  as  plainly,  too,  the  poor  gentleman.  As  he  sat 
holding  his  frail  burden,  every  moment,  alas !  becoming 
frailer,  vainly  trying  to  soothe  it  to  a  moment's  repose,  and 
after  each  unsuccessful  eftbrt  turning  his  beseeching  eyes  to 
heaven,  I  could  read  in  his  sharp  pale  face,  his  high  project- 
ing, but  not  broad  forehead,  his  quick  restless  eye,  flashing 
with  a  certain  fire  withal,  and  the  unsteady  working  of  his 
mouth,  the  plainly  written  story  of  a  liigh-hearted  disap- 
pointed man.  There  was  something  in  his  whole  demeanor 
which  bespoke  the  man  of  pride,  of  principle,  of  genius  too, 
but  also  of  irresolution — the  most  unhappy  type  of  all  God's 
images  on  earth ;  the  man  who,  seeing  the  prizes  with 
which  life's  lottery  is  teeming,  and  knowing  the  way  to 
reach  them,  yet  lacks  the  nerve  to  follow  therein,  because 
the  cowardly  doubt  is  still  there,  as  to  whether,  after  all, 
the  highest  good  is  thus  to  be  obtained. 

The  woman,  Hke  the  man,  in  one  respect  at  least,  was 
"  not  now  that  which  she  had  been,"  and  yet  there  were 
traces  of  her  former  better  self  flickering  occasionally  in  her 
faceand  mien.     Although  no  smile  played  upon  her  lips,  which 


190  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

were  once  beautiful,  but  were  now  thin  and  drawn  tightly 
together,  as  if  to  shut  out  from  her  heart  the  atmosphere  of 
a  world  that  had  never  seemed  to  love  her,  and  no  especial 
brilliance  flashed  upon  you  when  the  lids  were  raised  from 
eyes  around  which  were  drawn  dark  lines,  and  which  stood 
out  in  painful  prominence  from  w^asted  cheeks  ;  and  although 
lier  costume  was  of  the  simplest,  suggestive  of  a  dull  rou- 
tine of  daily  tasks,  and  nothing  of  the  dashiness  and 
bravery  of  life,  yet  there  was  something,  not  exactly  visible 
to  the  outward  eye,  which  showed  that  this  was  not  the 
destiny  to  which  she  was  born ;  else  why  should  I  have  seen 
her,  as  in  the  mirror  of  the  past,  sweeping  with  gallant  grace 
adown  a  gilded  drawing-room,  or  rousing  to  wild  gaiety  a 
sea-shore  or  hearth-side  party,  by  looks  and  tones  fraught 
with  fire-like  electric  sparks  I  Even  now,  in  that  worn, 
slender,  compressed  frame,  there  was  secreted  a  possibility 
of  fascination,  which  needed  only  the  showers  "and  beams  of 
sympathizing  hearts  to  awaken  to  active  being.  Ye  rude 
ones  of  the  world,  ye  who  take  pride  in  tlie  scrupulous  cor- 
rectness of  your  dealings  in  your  business  relations  with 
other  men,  paying  promptly  your  pecuniary  debts  even  to  the 
uttermost  farthing,  but  who,  in  the  calculating  and  unfeeling 
pursuit  of  your  selfish  ends,  jostle  the  pure,  the  gentle,  and  the 
uncomplaining  from  ikeir  paths  of  life,  depriving  them  thus 
of  those  simple  pleasures  which  you  know  not  of,  because 
you  cannot  enjoy  them  ;  think  you  that  you  will  never 
be  called  to  a  reckoning  for  this  ? 

And  the  little  child,  who  was  overleaping  all  this  weariness 
and  misery  of  life,  and  was  soon  to  be  a  little  cherub — I 
actually  found  myself  chuckling  over  the  idea  that  he  was 
cheating  the  old  deceptive  villain  of  a  world,  and  was  elud- 
ing its  clutches  even  by  a  stolen  march  to  lieaven.  No 
frittering  away  of  the  beauty  and  glory  of  his  young;  life  by 


SCENE  AT  PALE  SQUILL  A.  191 

unmanly,  cankering  cares.  Tlie  lustre  of  his  roguish  little 
eye  was  not  to  be  dinitned,  the  rosy  fulness  of  his  mischievous 
mouth  was  not  to  be  wholly  wasted,  his  laughing  curls  were 
not  even  to  be  cut,  till  he  had  lain  them  all  in  the  bosom 
of  the  rotting  earth  which  was  their  mother.  I  have  said 
that  he  was  a  child  of  some  five  or  six  summers.  There 
was  none  of  the  frostiness  of  winter  about  him  ;  nothing 
even  in  his  form,  worn  bv  disease,  suggestive  of  cold  or 
barrenness.  He  was  a  delicate  summer  flower,  and  now 
that  he  was  being  crushed  to  earth,  it  was  a  summer  storm 
that  did  it ;  a  rude  gale,  that  might  break  his  fragile  stalk, 
and  scatter  far  and  wide  his  fiiir  frail  petals,  but  which 
would  none  the  less  certainly  waft  the  essence  of  his 
fragrance  and  loveliness  far  beyond  the  clouds. 

The  father  sat  with  the  child  in  his  arms,  not  with  any 
hope  of  keeping  him  from  the  grasp  of  death,  but  gently 
rocking  him,  as  if  trying  to  lull  him  off  to  slumbei",  as  he 
had  often  perchance  done  after  frolicsome  days,  when  sleep 
came  with  a  soft  and  welcome  tread,  bringing  pleasant 
dreams  and  angel-whispers  in  her  train.  Then  the  sweet 
vision  of  the  morrow  awakening  danced  before  the  father's 
brain,  and  now 

The  mother  sat  by  his  side,  with  her  hands  clenched, 
firmly  knit  together.  She  was  trying  to  feel  physically  the 
agon}'  of  sitting  helpless  there,  while  her  child  died.  She 
could  not  bring  herself  to  feel  it,  and  so  she  kept  rising  up, 
looking  wildly  round,  but,  seeing  no  succor  in  any  quarter, 
would  settle  into  her  seat  again  with  an  agonizing  groan. 

"  Oh,  John,"  she  would  gasp  out  at  times,  "  tell  me,  will 
he  live,  will  he  be  better  soon,  will  he  know  his  dear  mother 
again  ?  God  forgive  me,  but  I  cannot — oh  no,  indeed,  I 
cannot  let  him  die  '."' 

And  then  a^ain  : 


19'2  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"Oh,  why  is  it,  why  7iiust  it  be  so?  When  we  left 
everything  else,  and  our  other  children  behind  us,  we  could 
uot  leave  little  Charlie.  He  was  to  have  been  our  good 
angel,  to  make  every  hardship  light  and  pleasant.  Tell  me, 
John,  if  there  is  any  meaning  in  this  blow." 

"  It  is  the  penalty  we  pay  for  being  poor,"  answered  the 
man  bitterly. 

A  dark  shadow,  as  of  remorse,  settled  suddenly  down 
upon  the  woman's  brow,  as  she  continued  wildly : 

"  But  I  thought  it  was  enough  when  we  buried,  little 
Arthur ;  you  said  God  had  taken  him,  and  it  was  better  for 
him  and  us.  But  Charlie,  he  has  been  longer  with  us, 
and  he  is  different  from  all  the  others ;  we  can  never  love 
anything  again  as  we  have  loved  him.  Oh,  see  him  now  ; 
see  his  little  limbs  how  they  twine.  O  God,  do  not  let 
him  suffer  thus !  take  him.  if  thou  must,  but  do  not  let  him 
linger  thus !"  * 

And  the  father  answered  solemnly,  while  the  child's  limbs 
were  stiff  and  bent  in  a  last  convulsion,  and  the  old  look  of  life 
was  fading  away  in  his  upturned  eyes,  and  great  drops  of 
agonizing  sweat  stood  upon  his  little  brow,  and  while  greater 
drops  came  upon  the  fathers  face — a  face  whose  every  line 
spoke  a  voiceless  prayer  to  God  to  shorten  the  death  strug- 
gle— thus  he  answered  : 

"  Yes,  Mary,  this  suffering  is  very  hard,  almost  too  hard ; 
but  hear  mo,  Mary,  and  thank  God  with  me  that  our  Charlie 
shall  never  know  a  suffering  ten  thousand" times  ^'eater 
than  this,  which  you  and  I  could  not  have  seen  and  felt 
for  :" 

"  He  does  not  suffer,"  said  another  voice  close  by.  "  Even 
now,  your  child  Charlie  rejoices  with  the  angels  in  the  para- 
dise of  God." 

As  the  \oice  spoke,  the  painful  gurgling  ceased   in  the 


SCENE  AT  PALENQUILLA.  193 

child's  throat,  his  limbs  gradually  straightened  and  resumed 
their  native  grace,  while  a  lovely  radiance  illumined  his 
beautiful  countenance,  as  if  it  had  caught  a  reflex  from  the 
happy  spirit  hovering  there  a  short  moment  to  bid  adieu  to 
its  late  tenement  of  clay.  A  peaceful,  easy  drawing  of  a 
breath  or  two,  and  the  last  chapter  of  this  little  life  on  earth 
■was  closed. 

There  was  silence  for  some  minutes.  The  rain  was  over, 
the  winds  were  at  rest,  and  a  broad  square  of  moonlight 
came  in  through  the  doorway  of  the  ranche,  lighting  up  the 
spot  where  sat  the  figures  of  the  scene. 

It  was  only  natural  that  the  last  comer  should  have  been 
Arthur  Orrington.  It  was  particularly  fitting  that  he  should 
have  come  at  that  moment — I  had  no  curious  sensation 
how  or  whence — to  form  as  it  were  a  connecting,  reconcil- 
ing link  between  those  afllicted  spirits  and  the  higher  order 
of  existences,  of  which  their  child  was  now  one.  And 
when,  taking  a  hand  of  each  within  his  own,  he  knelt  before 
them  in  prayer,  I  could  not  help  feeling  indeed  that  some- 
thing of  the  spirit  of  Him  who,  coming  down  from  heaven, 
took  upon  himself  the  likeness  even  of  us,  and  "  went  about 
doing  good,"  yet  lingered  in  the  form  of  our  humanity. 

His  prayer  was  no  idle  expenditure  of  words.  It  rose  up 
from  his  soul  like  spiritual  incense :  and  as  it  ascended,  a 
like  incense  from  other  souls  mingled  and  rose  with  it,  an 
acceptable  offering  at  the  throne  of  the  All-perfect.  Oh, 
what  an  odor  of  tearful  joy,  and  gratitude,  and  hope  seemed 
to  float  upward  and  outward  from  our  hearts,  making  the 
atmosphere  about  us  redolent  of  all  pleasant  things,  when  that 
clear,  soft,  solemn  voice  repeated  the  words  of  our  Saviour, 
"  Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me ;"  and  then  the 
ineflTable  peace  and  faith  which  overcame  us,  how  can  I  de- 
scribe  it,  when  there  followed  the  blessed  assurance,  that 

9 


194  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"  of  such  was  the  kingdom  of  heaven  1"  But  when,  for  the 
first  tinie,  the  absolute  certainty  of  their  child's  eternal  bliss 
broke  upon  the  parents'  brain  ;  when,  following  the  spirit  of 
the  prayer,  they  saw  him  sitting  with  the  white-robed 
cherubs  at  the  feet  of  Christ,  and  knew  that  there  should  be 
his  home  for  ever,  the  measure  of  their  thankfulness  was 
full.  The  great  glory  of  the  thought,  that  while  they  were 
going  about  in  quest  of  the  treasures  of  earth,  other  hands 
than  those  of  men  had  been  gathering  treasures  for  them, 
worth  more  than  all  the  Avorlds  of  space,  and  laying  them 
up  in  those  regions  "  where  neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  cor- 
rupt, and  where  thieves  do  not  break  through  and  steal," 
was  enough.  The  corpse  of  the  child  lying  in  its  last  com- 
posure, as  if  fanned  to  slumber  by  an  angel's  wing,  was  but 
typical  of  the  perfect  peace  and  gladness  of  those  two  spirits 
bowed  and  silent  in  the  presence  of  that  sublime  revelation. 
It  was  long  after  the  departure  of  Arthur  Orrington,  ere 
a  word  was  spoken  on  either  side.  The  man  and  woman 
sat  in  their  respective  seats,  almost  motionless,  while  the 
former  still  held  in  his  arms  his  still  precious  burden.  At 
length  a  loud,  long  sob  burst  from  the  woman,  and  as  she 
turned  her  face  full  towards  me,  catching  meanwhile  upon 
her  husband's  arm,  I  saw  lines  of  tears  streaming  down  her 
cheeck. 

"  John,"  said  she,  in  a  tone  most  thrillingly  sad,  yet  ear- 
nest, "  I  feel  that  I  have  done  a  great  wrong,  but  God  has 
forgiven  me  ;  can  you  forgive  me  also  ?" 

The  man  changed  not  his  posture  in  the  slightest,  and  she 
continued  : 

"  When  you  were  in  trouble,  John,  when  the  world  grew 
dark  around  you,  when  you  hadn't  a  friend,  John,  because 
you  hadn't  money,  but  when  a  httle  money  would  have 
made  you  free  and  happy,  I  had  it  and  kept  it  back  from  you." 


SCEi\E  AT  PALENQUILLA.  196 

The  man  turned  upon  her  a  countenance  full  of  emotion, 
but  in  which  was  no  sentiment  of  anger. 

"  Yes,  John,  I  had  money,  money  inherited  frofti  a  rela- 
tive, that  you  did  not  know  of — and  I  kept  it  back.  But 
oh  !  believe  me,  I  did  not  keep  it  from  avarice  or  mistrust ; 
I  kept  it  because  I  would  have  been  too  wise,  and  was  a 
fool." 

In  the  man's  countenance  was  an  expression  of  earnest, 
searching  inquiry,  which  the  woman  interpreting,  went  on  : 

"  Yes,  John,  I  saw  you  suffer  day  by  day  ;  I  saw  your 
sensitive  spirit  goaded  and  made  miserable  ;  I  saw  you  de- 
spised by  mean,  unworthy  men,  and  I  kept  back  the  money 
which  might  have  made  you  independent  of  them  all.  But 
oh  !  John,  I  did  not  keep  it  back  for  myself,  I  kept  it  back 
for  hi7n  ;  yes,  for  him^  that  I  might  have  it  to  keep  off  the 
evil  of  his  dark  day.  Oh  !  I  thought  it  would  come  as 
yours  had  come,  when  he  was  a  handsome,  high-hearted 
young  man,  and  I  could  not  bear  to  think  of  him  crushed 
and  disappointed,  and  despised  of  his  companions.  So  I 
said,  I  will  save  it  for  him,  and  when  his  dark  day  comes, 
and  he  shall  say  to  me,  '  Mother,  I  have  no  friends,  and  no 
position  in  the  world,  and  I  must  die,'  then  I  would  bring  it 
forth  and  give  it  to  him,  and  be  repaid  by  his  kisses  and 
his  tears  for  all  that  you  and  I  have  suffered.  Oh,  what  a 
fool  I  was  !" 

The  woman's  tears  fell  in  gushing  rivers,  but  her  sobs 
were  less  wild  and  violent.  The  man  wept  too,  but  calm- 
ly ;  and  taking  her  by  the  hand,  he  said,  in  a  voice  so 
touchingly  tender  and  sad  that  I  found  my  own  tears  falling 
likewise  : 

"  You  are  my  own  dearest  Mary.  I  love  you  better,  ten 
thousand  times  better  than  ever.  Let  us  thank  God  toge- 
ther that  Charlie's  dark  day  has  come  and  gone;  he  will 


196  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

never,  never  see  another,  never  another  shadow  through  all 
eternity  !" 

"But,  John,  it  was  wrong  to  let  you  sufter  as  I  did,  and 
wrong  to  wish  to  thwart  the  providence  of  God,  and  keep 
ray  idol  from  his  share  of  the  world's  sorrow.  Let  us  try 
to  understand  this  lesson.  Let  us  go  back  to  those  who  are 
left  to  us.  We  shall  have  enough  to  begin  life  with  some- 
where, and  we  will  live  together,  all  of  us.  There  is  certain- 
ly a  place  for  us  somewhere  in  the  world,  and  no  matter  how 
humbly  we  live.  It  seems  to  me  that  there  cannot  be  any 
poverty  or  hardship  left,  now  Charlie  is  dead.  Dear  Char- 
lie, he  left  us  nothing  but  his  dear,  sweet  memory,  and  yet 
how  rich  are  we  in  the  love  which  he  has  already  sent  down 
to  us  from  heaven  !  Let  us  go  back,  John,  to  where  our 
home  was,  and  not  care  for  such  wealth  as  gold  any  more." 

"  Be  it  so,"  said  the  man  ;  and  he  bowed  his  head  and 
imprinted  a  passionate  kiss  upon  the  pale  forehead  of  his 
dead  child,  as  if  the  little  one,  whose  every  word  and  act 
had  been  lovely  and  endearing  during  life,  had  taught  a  yet 
lovelier  lesson  by  his  death. 

Afterwards,  when  a  native  woman  came  in,  and,  removing 
the  corpse  tenderly  from  the  father's  arms,  laid  it  upon  the 
counter,  and  proceeded  to  wash  its  face  and  smoothe  down 
its  tumbled  locks,  but  did  not  remove  its  clothes,  for  the 
mother  by  signs  and  looks  forbade,  thus  leading  me  to  think 
that  it  was  a  favorite  suit,  perchance  the  very  one  which  he 
wore  to  church,  hand  in  hand  with  his  proud  parents — proud 
of  him — humble  enough  in  so  much  else — on  the  last  Sab- 
bath of  their  sojourn  in  their  native  land — the  fact  of  her 
appearance,  I  say,  was  somehow  associated  in  my  mind  with 
the  idea  of  Arthur  Orrington,  as  if  he  had  sent  her  to  do 
this.  Calmly  as  she  performed  her  delicate  task,  and  tear- 
lessly  as,  having  prepared  the  body  even  for  burial,  she 


SCENE  AT  PALENQUILLA.  197 

threw  over  it  a  fragment  of  a  cotton  robe  bound  with  a  deep 
fringe  of  elaborately-wrought  lace,  and  then  taking  from  a 
box  upon  the  floor  two  tallow  candles,  and  lighting  them 
placed  them  at  its  head  and  feet,  it  required  no  subtle  pow- 
ers of  penetration  to  see  that  she  worked  not  for  hire,  unless 
indeed  payment  was  to  be  taken  in  looks  of  heart-gushing 
gratitude  and  love.  What  mattered  it  that  she  was  black, 
and  that  her  features  were  not  as  delicately  carved  as  those 
about  her  ?  c  In  the  dusky  shadow  of  the  Great  Reaper's 
presence,  forms  and  colors  were  alike,  and  God,  who  seeth 
deeper  than  these,  knows  if  at  that  moment  her  spirit  like- 
wise was  not  pure  and  white  as  theirs. 

I  left  my  chamber  noiselessly,  and  crept  out  tmseen.  The 
day  was  just  beginning  to  break.  It  was  a  fresh,  clear, 
breezy  morning.  As  I  slid  along  downward  toward  the 
beach,  merry  shouts  came  rolling  up  to  greet  me,  and  when 
I  arrived  among  them,  all  was  activity  and  bustle.  The 
"  poco  tiempo"  principle  of  the  natives  was  for  the  time 
ignored  by  the  resolute  gold-seekers,  determined  to  get  on. 
Our  matin  hymn  was  "  Wake  up  there,"  "  Go  ahead," 
"  Clear  the  kitchen,"  and  it  rose  to  the  melodious  accompa- 
niment of  tin  pans  and  portable  cooking-stoves.  Each  was 
striving  to  be  off  first,  and  not  a  little  gouging  was  going  on 
in  consequence,  mingled  with  hard  words  and  some  unim- 
portant skirmishes.  Nevertheless,  the  scene  was  pleasant 
and  enlivening,  so  suggestive  as  it  was  of  cheery  life  and 
health  and  hope. 

But  I  could  not  keep  niy  thoughts  from  recurring  some- 
times to  the  bereaved  couple  whom  I  had  left  in  the  ranch e 
upon  the  hill.  In  imagination  I  saw  them  fulfilling  their 
last  duties  towards  the  precious  remains  of  their  darling 
babe,  putting  them  beneath  the  ground,  hiding  them  from 


198  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

their  sight  for  ever,  aud  then,  with  faces  turned  homeward, 
going  in  quite  another  way  from  the  rest  of  us,  down  the 
windings  of  thai  melancholy  river  alone.  ^ 

Alone  ? 


OORGONA.  199 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


GORGONA. 


¥E  were  well  away  from  Palenquilia  before  sunrise.  The 
crisp,  cool  air  of  the  morning  came  winnowing  over  the 
i-iver,  its  limitless  wings  dispersing  fresh  odors  at  every  beat. 
Seated  beneath  our  awning  of  j^alm  leaves,  having  completed 
our  ablutions  in  the  stream  beside  us,  and  sipping  the  tiny 
cups  of  strong  coffee,  which  Thom,  in  his  bountiful  provi- 
dence, had  prepared  for  us ;  nothing  could  be  more  delightful 
than  to  feel  ourselves  thus  gratefully  bonie  onward  towards 
our  journey's  end.  So  pleasant  was  the  sense  of  overcoming 
the  strong  current  of  the  river,  so  soothing  its  gurgling 
music  as  I  hurried  past,  so  refreshing  the  sweet  scent  from 
odorous  woodlands  on  either  hand,  so  majestic  and  beauti- 
fully solemn  the  view  of  palm,  acacia,  and  thick-leaved 
mango,  dark  shadowing,  and  seemingly  impenetrable  at 
their  base,  with  manifold  bushes,  creeping  parasitical  plants, 
and  great  bunches  of  old  spongy  moss,  enlivened  only  in 
spots  by  scarlet  or  yellow  blossoms,  peeping  forth  like  eyes 
of  flame  set  deep  into  the  front  of  huge,  shaggy,  slumberous 
behemoths  of  the  wood,  but  with  the  golden  sunshine  just 
throwing  a  playful  flicker  over  their  topmost  boughs,  and 
making  their  wavy  outlines  so  radiant  up  there  against  the 
clear  blue  sky ! 

f^  The   glorious    sunshine    of    the    tropics — how    my   soul 
hankers  after  it  here  in  my  winterly  New  England  home  \J 


200  LIFE  Oil  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"  The  cold  and  cloudy  clime 
Where  I  was  born,  but  where  I  would  not  die" — 

(for  the  present  at  all  events).  There  is  no  other  sunshine 
in  the  world  like  unto  it.  There  may  be,  perhaps,  a  faint 
likeness  in  our  early  summer  days,  when  there  is  wafted  far 
from  the  sweet  south,  a  softly  mellow  atmosphere  through 
which  it  falls  lovingly  upon  us  from  the  cloudless  heaven, 
broken  into  waves  of  light  by  a  golden  shinamer  drifting 
through  it,  but  oh,  hoAv  faint  at  best !  And  again  in  the 
autumn,  the  Indian  summer,  there  is  an  attempt  to  revive  it. 

"  When  come  tlie  warm  bright  days. 
As  still  such  days  will  come, 
To  call  the  squirrel  and  the  bee 
From  out  their  winter  home." 

But  oh,  how  faint  again — and  comparatively  speaking,  ghastly 
in  its  surroundings  of  dead  leaves  and  naked  meadows, 
and  how  wanting  in  that  depth  and  fulness  which  make  the 
presence  of  this  so  dimly  but  so  wholly  satisfying  ! 

But  while  we  are  bestowing  ourselves  thus  ha2>pily — and 
so  far  silently,  with  the  exception  of  Monsieur  Crapolet,  who 
is  constantly  performing  solos  upon  his  nasal  organ,  by  way 
of  putting  an  additional  edge  upon  the  olfactory  nerve — it  is 
quite  otherwise  with  our.boatmen.  They,  brave  fellows  that 
they  are,  have  now  come  to  "  the  hard  part  of  the  river,"  as 
they  term  it.  And  hard  indeed  it  is  for  them,  where  in 
shallow  places  and  at  sharp  bends  the  stream  fairly  whistles 
as  it  spouts  by  in  headloug  speed.  They  ply  themselves 
to  their  task  nevertheless,  with  unconquerable  determination. 
They  have  laid  aside  their  shirts,  and  now,  attired  simply  in 
trowsers  and  sombrero,  throw  themselves  bodily  upon  their 
bending  poles,  while  the  perspiration  comes  smoking  from 
their  deep  chests,  as  they  step  steadily  fi'om  stem  to  stem  of- 


GORGON  A.  201 

the  struggling  boat.  The  native  boatmen  in  the  other  boats, 
which  are  constantly  passing  and  repassing,  sometimes 
getting  aground  in  the  bit  of  channel  right  ahead,  and 
sometimes  bumping  up  against  us,  with  innumerable  "  cara- 
hos"  on  their  side,  and  about  an  equal  quantity  of  sturdy 
oaths  in  the  vernacular  on  the  part  of  our  men — not  hav- 
ing, I  am  sorry  to  say,  an  equal  sense  of  what  is  demanded 
by  the  conventionalities  of  civilized  life,  go  to  yet  greater 
lengths  in  disrobing  themselves,  and  "so  far  as  the  curved 
line  is  the  line  of  beauty,"  are  certainly  none  the  homelier 
for  the  arrangement.  The  imperturbable  sang-froid  with  which 
they  attend  to  this  little  item  of  personal  accommodation, 
and  the  renewed  satisfaction  with  which  they  return  to  their 
task,  is  quite  a  sight  to  behold.  Then  the  horror  or  disguised 
merriment  of  the  ladies,  when  there  happen  to  be  any  in  the 
same  boat ;  or  the  look  of  comic  perplexity  with  which  the 
boatmen  sometimes  again  encase  their  nether  limbs  when 
prevailed  upon  to  do  so  by  a  liberal  offer  of  aguardente  or 
eau-de-vie  fi-om  the  gentlemen  in  attendance  ;  it  is  really 
quite  a  commentary  upon  the  morality  of  our  social  cus- 
toms, and  might  furnish  the  text  for  a  very  respectable 
homily.  Aguardente  may  or  may  not  be  a  decent  kind  of 
beverage  in  its  way,  but  for  a  Chagres  native  to  expose  his 
person  in  unadorned  development,  save  for  a  ragged  girdle 
about  the  loins,  and  that  too  in  presence  of  eyes  unused  to 
the  contemplation  of  naked  beauties,  though  perchance  not 
unfamiliar  with  the  lorgnette  at  the  Broadway  or  the  Astor 
Place — preposterous!     One's  ideas  of  decency — you  know. 

And  speaking  of  lorgnettes,  imagine  the  narrator,  backed 
up  into  a  snug  corner  of  the  stern  sheets  of  our  barge,  as  if 
it  were  a  corner  box,  and  gazing  through  his  visual  organs, 
quickened  in  their  powers  by  a  concentration  of  purpose  as 
by  a  lorgnette,  at  the  performances  in  our  little   theatre 

0* 


202  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

beneath  the  awning.  It  is  quite  curious  to  watch  the  play 
of  characters  upon  the  stage  of  my  inspection. 

There  is  Judge  Smithers,  for  instance,  tall,  square-framed, 
large-featured,  rollicking  in  good  sense,  the  type  of  the 
frank,  shrewd,  honest,  adventurous,  successful  American.  It 
is  a  little  remarkable  that  the  judge  should  have  taken  such 
a  fancy  to  the  rowdy,  dilapidated  Colonel ;  yet  they  seem 
very  much  pleased  with  each  other.  The  Judge,  as  I  con- 
ceive, regards  the  Colonel  as  a  fancy  specimen  of  locomotive 
nature,  and  takes  delight  in  trotting  him  out,  and  exhibiting 
his  "points  to  admiring  spectators ;  and  the  Colonel,  on  his 
part,  looks  upon  the  Judge  as  a  capital  fellow,  in  his  way, 
and  makes  quite  a  pet  of  him,  as  being  exactly  the  sort  of 
man  he  might  have  been,  had  Ite  thought  it  worth  his  while 
to  lay  himself  out,  which,  indeed,  is  quite  natural,  since  it  is, 
doubtless,  within  the  experience  of  all,  that  we  are  apt  to 
respect  ourselves  more  for  what  we  might  have  been  than 
for  what  we  really  are.  The  Judge  is  a  worker  and  dealer 
in  the  realities  of  life,  and  his  career  harmonizes  with  his 
ideas.  The  Colonel  has  a  pleasant  theory,  that  life  consists 
of  a  series  of  pictures  on  the  brain,  and  that  the  great  thing 
is  to  keep  that  portion  of  the.  system  in  a  soft  and  mellow 
state,  that  these  may  be  imprinted  with  due  etfect ;  and  this 
desirable  result  he  has  a  trick  of  producing  by  frequent 
potations.  The  Judge  has  the  handsome  freshness  of  early 
manhood  still  upon  him.  The  Colonel  retains  but  little  of 
his  pristine  beauty,  and  if  it  is  not  all  turned  to  ashes,  it  is 
because  the  fire  is  still  burning;  but  the  ashes  will  come 
nevertheless. 

Monsieur  Crapolet,  too — such  a  trump  as  he  turned  out 
to  be,  as  a  merry  and  thoroughly  serviceable  compac/noii  de 
voyage  ;  one  up  to  the  rare  trick  of  turning  melancholy  into 
a  burlesque ;  he  was  the  very  ace  of  trumps ;  there  was  a 


GORGONA.  203 

golden  vein  of  childishness  running  through  his  manly 
character  which  the  mere  opulence  of  outward  circumstances 
would  have  made  look  pafe  and  mean ;  and  this  was  the 
great  charm  about  him,  that  just  in  proportion  as  he  was 
poor,  and  weak,  and  utterly  devoid  of  binding  attachments  to 
the  world,  he  was  rich,  and  strong,  and  joyous  in  the  native 
resources  of  his  genial  temperament  He  did  not  seem  to 
have  any  particular  thing  to  live  for  but  the  enjoyment  of 
lite  itself.  He  impressed  me  as  a  man  who  had,  as  it  were, 
ceased  to  recognise  any  high  spiritual  ends  worth  struggling 
for,  and  had  given  himself  wholly  up  to  the  illustration  of 
the  glories  and  perfection  of  the  physical.  What  he  might 
have  become  had  he  married  Virginie  or  bien  Mathilde, 
encircled  by  certain  conventional  responsibilities,  as  he  would 
consequently  have  been,  I  cannot  say — certainly  not  the 
plump  and  perfect  Monsieur  Crapolet  of  the  Isthmus, 
He  would  have  been  w  orth  a  fortune  to  the  proprietor  of  a 
cheap  eating-house  in  Yankee-land,  to  have  merely  stood, 
picking  his  teeth  daily  at  his  door,  thus  representing  the 
general  condition  of  the  man  who  eat  at  his  place,  in  contra- 
distinction to  nine  out  of  ten  of  the  passers-by,  who  were 
supposed  to  eat  elsewhere ;  Sardanapalus  would  have  gloried 
in  him  as  a  subject,  so  beautifully  unconscious  as  was  his 
elastic  form  of  "  the  weight  of  human  misery ;"  but  had  he 
been  in  the  place  of  that  humane  and  voluptuous  monarch, 
I  think  he  would  have  gone  farther,  and  not  content  with 
seeing  his  people  "  glide  ungroauing  to  the  tomb,"  would,  in 
the  technical  language  of  the  day,  have  sent  them  "  smiling" 
to  their  latter  homes.  If  Monsieur  Crapolet  had  a  principle 
or  theory  in  the  world,  it  was  that  we  all  owed  a  tremendous 
debt  to  nature,  and  that  it  would  have  been  a  grievous  sin 
to  have  turned  our  backs  upon  the  more  generous  kinds  of 
nourishment  which    slie  daily   offered   us ;    and    this  was 


204  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

exemplified  every  hour  of  liis  life,  by  his  conscientious  selec- 
tion and  consumption  of  the  richest, and  most  invigorating 
of  her  juices,  within  the  limits  of  his  observation  and  means. 
So  fully  satisfied  was  he  of  the  correctness  of  his  favorite 
theory,  that  if  any  one  had  catechised  him  as  to  the  whole 
duty  of  man,  he  would,  doubtless,  have  responded,  "  liqui- 
date ;"  and  if  he  ever  had  occasion  to  sign  his  name,  I  feel 
morally  certain  that  it  would  have  read,  as  we  often  see 
signatures  of  mercantile  houses  in  the  Londoii  and  Paris 
newspapers — "  Francois  Crapolet  en  liquidation," 

We  are  all  of  us  dreamers.  Were  it  not  for  dreams,  life 
would  not  be  supportable ;  and  Monsieur  Crapolet  had  his 
dream — it  was  a  darling"  day-dream.  He  had  nursed  and 
played  with  it  so  long  and  often,  that  at  times  he  looked 
upon  it  as  a  reality — a  dream  of  great  wealth,  that  was  one 
day  to  be  his.  He  had  very  vague  notions,  if  any,  as  to 
where  this  property  was  to  come  from,  or  how  it  was  to 
come  ;  but  the  amount  was  settled — "  sejjt  milliards  " — and 
nothing  remained  but  to  lay  it  out  in  such  a  way  as  to  get 
the  greatest  possible  amount  of  enjoyment  from  it.  It  was 
a  real  treat  the  way  this  gentleman  and  Colonel  Allen  used 
to  get  hobnobbing  together,  while  discussing  this  expectancy  ; 
the  touching  way  in  which  the  Colonel  used-  to  express  a 
hope  that  it  might  come  soon — "  when,"  as  he  vvas  fond  of 
adding,  "  we  will  have  some  better  liquor  than  this,  Monsieur 
Crapolet;"  and  the  calm,  philosophic  manner  in  which  Mon- 
sieur Crapolet  was  wont  to  reply,  with  a  shrug,  "  Parbleu  ;" 
thereby  annihilating,  at  one  blow,  all  doubts  on  tliat  score, 
and  concluding  with  an  observation  to  the  effect  that  the 
liquor  was,  however,  very  passable  "  en  attendant.^''  It  would 
have  been  perhaps  rather  melancholy  to  have  seen  these  two 
full-grown  hombres  (as  Judge  Smithers  styled  them)  thus 
disporting  with  the  world's  serious  things,  but  for  a  coavic- 


GORGONA.  206 

tion  in  my  own  mind  that  every  man's  existence  is  spent 
"  en  attendant "  something,  and  that  without  some  great  life- 
long hope  to  buoy  us  up,  we  should  hardly  have  strength  to 
buffet  the  rude  waves  of  life. 

Tom,  by  way  of  presenting  Thorn  to  us  in  a  new  light,  has 
taught  this  whilom  taciturn  individual  to  shout  "  Caraho^'' 
at  a  given  signal,  in  the  most  approved  style  of  native  ora- 
tory. Tom  sits  across  the  boat's  bow,  with  his  feet  dangling 
in  the  stream,  smoking  his  pipe ;  and  whenever  a  boat 
manned  by  natives  passes  us,  either  in  ascending  or  descend- 
ing the  river,  Tom  gives  the  signal,  and  thereupon  Thorn 
shouts  "  Caraho  "  at  the  top  of  his  lungs,  which  is  answered 
by  a  deafening  yell  of  ^^  ca7'ahoes"  from  the  aforesaid  natives, 
filling  the  whole  heavens  with  a  horrible  discord,  so  that  even 
the  sleepy  alligators  on  the  river's  bank  are  fain  to  slide 
down  under  its  surface,  to  escape  the  dreadful  din.  Tom 
explains  this  as  "  fun  !" 

But  I  think,  on  the  whole,  that  the  Judge  is  our  most 
entertaining  companion.  In  those  graces  of  conversation 
which  may  be  termed  anecdotical,  the  Judge  excels.  His 
scenes  are  laid  principally  in  Mexico  and  California,  countries 
with  which  the  Major  is  likewise  familiar.  I  Avould  like  to 
introduce  to  the  reader  some  of  the  Judge's  stories,  though 
I  cannot  vouch  for  liis  finding  them  as  interesting  as  I  did 
at  the  time ;  but  1  feel  that  it  would  be  inconsistent  with  the 
plan  of  this  narrative  to  do  so  here.  If  I  have  lingered  thus 
long  with  our  old  friends,  it  is  that  we  are  now  coming  upon 
a  new  phase  of  Isthmus  life.  We  are  about  to  plunge,  as  it 
were,  into  the  middle  of  the  rush  and  tide  thereof,  and  these 
our  fellow-yoyagcrs  thus  far  will  come  up  to  our  notice  less 
frequently,  and  be  seen  less  closely  than  heretofore. 

It  Avas  past  noon  when  we  arrived  at  the  little  cluster  of 
huts  known  as  San  Pablo.     Here  wc  were  to  dine*     There 


206  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

was  a  crowd  of  boats  in  before  us,  and  the  old  padre's  ranche 
upon  the  hill  was  completely  besieged  by  the  first  comers; 
not  that  there  was  anything  especially  inviting  in  the  nature 
of  the  refreshments  for  sale  within,  but  from  a  kind  of  loaf- 
ing habit,  into  which  they  had  all  more  or  less  fallen,  of 
patronizing  every  ranche  along  the  river.  The  fact  of  their 
having  paid  a  dime  for  a  small  cup  of  weak,  muddy  coflfee, 
or  a  tiny  glass  of  rum  and  turpentine,  gave  them  the  cha- 
racter of  injured  persons  in  their  own  eyes,  and  warranted 
their  prowling  moodily  about  the  premises,  pocketing  an  egg 
or  two,  if  there  happened  to  be  any  "  lying  round  loose,"  or 
breaking  through  the  picket  fences,  in  agricultural  explora- 
tions. 

The  padre  was  not  at  home,  but  his  wife  was — a  formidable 
old  lady,  with  a  square,  bony,  masculine  frame,  and  an  im- 
mensely befrizzled  head  of  hair,  into  which  she  occasionally 
stuck  her  lighted  cigar,  in  the  intervals  of  smoking.  She 
was  quite  cool  and  business-like  amidst  all  the  rush  of  cus- 
tom, serving  out  liquor  and  coftee  with  the  air  of  a  person 
who  had  a  sacred  duty  to  perform.  She  had  two  attendants, 
one  of  whom,  a  draggle-tailed,  overgi-own  little  girl,  in  a 
dirty  white  dress,  washed  the  coftee  cups  by  passing  them 
through  a  tub  of  brown  colored  water  upon  the  counter. 
Her  face  and  hands  (be  it  observed  e7i  passant)  bore  unmis- 
takable traces  of  having  been  washed  in  the  same  liquid. 
The  other  attendant  was  a  boy  in  shirt  and  sombrero,  who 
made  periodical  visits  to  a  neighboring  hut  in  search  of 
more  coftee.  This  young  gentleman  was  enough  of  a  prac- 
tical philosopher  to  believe  in  the  motto,  that  he  is  rich 
whose  wants  are  few,  and  returned  a  very  decided  "  No  "  to 
propositions  on  various  sides  to  take  him  along. 

There  was  another  personage  in  the  padre's  abode,  who 
was  not  "one  of  us."     This  was  a  Spaniard,  or  Spanish 


GORGONA.  207 

Creole  of  the  Isthmus.  He  was  a  thin,  wiry-built  fellow, 
very  dark  and  sallow,  with  black  eyes  and  hair,  and  the 
never-failing  moustache,  habited  in  white  pants,  with  long 
spur-mounted  boots  outside,  a  gay  red  and  black  striped 
poncho,  with  a  red  silk  sash  about  his  waist,  and  a  neat, 
narrow-brimmed  Panama  hat  upon  his  head.  This  pictu- 
resque individual  lay  smoking  with  a  kind  of  Alexander 
Selkirk  air,  in  the  one  sole  haniniuck  of  the  apartment.  The 
coffee-bearer  informed  us  that  he  was  from  Panama,  and 
had  come  across  since  sunrise ;  and  furthermore  showed  us 
his  mule  attached  to  the  picket  inclosing  a  plantain  patch 
in  the  rear  of  the  hut.  This  information  gave  us  all  a  thrill 
of  pleasure.  We  had  reached  that  point  in  the  Isthmus 
where  the  land,  route  was  practicable  for  mules  at  all  events. 
The  great  weariness  of  our  journey  was  over.  "  The  day  of 
our  longing"  was  at  hand,  when  we  would  test  the  capa- 
bilities of  our  favorite  animals.  We  were  really  within  a 
few  hours'  jaunt  of  Panama.  In  imagination  we  saw  the 
broad  surface  of  the  Pacific,  dotted  with  numberless  green 
isles,  lying  still  and  golden  beneath  a  softer  sunlight,  yet 
heaving  inwardly  with  deep  yearnings,  drawing  us  thither- 
ward. There  was  something  in  the  scene  about  us  sugges- 
tive of  the  same  thing.  The  village  of  San  Pablo  is  founded 
on  a  broad  cleared  plain,  with  here  and  there  a  few  clumps 
of  acacias  and  sycamores,  throwing  their  grateful  shadows 
on  the  green.  Cropping  the  short  herbage  of  this  table-land, 
were  cows,  bullocks,  goats,  and  sheep.  It  was  a  quiet,  patri- 
archal-looking spot,  midway  on  the  Isthmus.  The  Chagres 
river,  which  makes  a  sudden  turn  at  this  point,  was  shooting 
madly  towards  the  ocean  in  our  rear,  while  immediately  be- 
neath us  it  was  comparatively  calm  as  an  inland  lake.  Be- 
yond the  turning  there  was  a  precipitoifs  gravel  bank,  which 
looked  as  if  the  river  had  at  some  time  leaped  up  against  it, 


208  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

and  torn  the  shrubs  and  verdure  fi'oni  its  front.  Above  us, 
in  the  direction  where  our  course  lay,  was  a  harmonious  out- 
line of  tree  and  creeping  vine,  and  pebbly  beach,  with  the 
towering  peak  of  Carabali,  from  whose  topmost  foothold  it 
is  said  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  may  be  seen  at  once,  thrown 
up  like  a  great  drift  of  living  vegetation  to  mark  the 
spot  where  the  winds  of  two  oceans  met  in  battle.  But 
over  all  the  landscape  on  the  western  hand,  the  unclouded 
rays  of  the  sun  were  falling,  illuminating  the  picture  with  a 
brightness  that  was  typical  of  the  golden  treasures  beneath 
the  surface  of  that  wondrous  coast ;  while  in  the  other  direc- 
tion, black  festoons  of  clouds  shut  out  the  blue  sky,  and  the 
vista  of  hill,  and  plain,  and  river,  was  hidden  in  storm  and 
mist. 

Dinner  over — dinner  ! — some  stale  biscuit,  tough  dry 
cheese,  pui'chased  of  the  padre's  wife,  and  raw  slices  of  ham  ; 
think  of  that,  ye  habitues  of  Parker's  and  Delmonico's  ! — we 
again  took  up  our  line  of  travel.  Judge  Sraithers,  Colonel 
Alien,  and  Tom  joined  a  party  who  were  going  to  walk  into 
Gorgona,  and  the  rest  of  us  returned  to  our  barge.  As  we 
threaded  the  windings  of  the  river,  it  hourly  became  more 
clearly  evident  that  we  were  approaching  the  Pacific  side; 
the  air  had  become  more  dry  and  pure  ;  clean  grassy  hills 
rose  at  intervals  up  from  the  river's  bank,  dotted  with  pic- 
turesque haciendas,  fields  of  corn,  rice,  and  {)lantains,  and 
groups  of  domestic  animals  ;  sometimes  we  struggled  past  a 
wholesome  sandy  beach,  where  some  sapient-visaged  cows 
and  flirty  little  horses  would  stand  looking  curiously  at  us, 
and  where  there  would  likewise  be  some  native  women 
washing  and  spreading  out  their  white  dresses  on  the  sand  to 
dry.  But  these  were  merely  suggestive  specks  of  civiliza- 
tion. The  genius  of  uncontrolled  vegetation  was  far  from 
being  entirely  put  down,  and   many  a   long  sweep  in  the 


GORGONA.  209 

river  disclosed  only  a  frowning  and  impenetrable  hedge  of 
forest  on  either  side.  Black  wooden  crosses,  occasionally  seen 
in  the  more  open  spots,  where  lay  the  remains  of  those  who 
"  by  the  way  side  fell  and  perished,"  hinted  also  that  danger 
from  disease  was  still  dogging  us  like  a  cold  unwelcome 
shadow. 

The  Major,  missing  the  excitement  of  the  Judge's  rerainis 
cences,  suggestive  as  they  had  been  of  similar  personal 
adventures  of  his  own,  and  feeling,  too,  impressed  with  an 
awful  sense  of  his  responsibility,  now  that  the  camels  were 
so  soon  to  be  put  upon  their  pegs,  was  unusually  silent  and 
meditative.  And  Monsieur  Crapolet,  suffering  from  a  like 
bereavement  of  his  dear  friend,  Colonel  Allen,  was  disposed 
to  be  altogether  retrospective  in  his  fancies,  and  pertina- 
ciously edified  as  to  what  a  distinguished  and  useful  mem- 
ber of  society  he  would  have  been  had  he  been  fortunate 
enongh  to  marry  "Virginie,  ou  bien  Mathilde."  And 
whether  it  was  owing  entirely  to  this  somniferous  state  of 
things,  or  in  part  to  my  having  watched  the  whole  of  the 
preceding  night ;  one  thing  is  certain,  that  I  soon  fell  into  a 
sound  dreamless  slumber. 

A  roar  and  buzz  of  confused  noises,  jabbering  of  natives, 
shouts  and.  singing  on  the  part  of  more  pretentious  indi- 
viduals, neighing  of  horses,  lamentations  of  mules,  barking  of 
dogs,  with  a  faint  shade  of  melody  as  from  banjo  and  tam- 
borine,  drifting  through  it  all,  awakens  me.  Our  boat  has 
come  to  a  sudden  stop  in  the  midst  of  a  hundred  other  boats. 
A  long  low  sandy  beach  on  my  right,  checkered  with  piles  of 
luggage,  prostrate  forms,  miners'  tents,  imder-sized  shingle 
palaces,  and  native  huts ;  a  steep  embankment  rising  from  it, 
adorned  with  similar  styles  of  architecture  on  a  somewhat 
larger  scale ;  a  thousand  hghts  moving  and  glimmering 
everywhere — a  promiscuous   mass   of  animal  life,  brute  and 


210  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

human,  swarming  over  the  whole;  on  the  other  hand  the 
deep  dark  silent  woods,  skirting  the  sluggish  water  of  the 
stream  on  which  we  ride — all  this,  dimly  lighted  by  the  just 
rising  moon,  is  the  vision  upon  which  my  eyes  open — and 
this  is  Gorgona. 

Here  comes  a  man  with  a  bull's-eye  lantern  in  his  hand, 
striding  across  the  boats  which  intervene  between  us  and 
the  shore,  in  the  direction  of  our  own. 

"  Sev^en  sleepers  ahoy  !"  shouts  a  well  known  voice. 

"  Hulloa,  Tom  !  that  you  «" 

"Hulloa,  yourself — where  have  you  been  to  this  Dutch 
month  ?"  responds  Tom. 

"  Well,  really — I — I  rather  think  we  have  been  aground, 
somewhere  below  here — Is  it  very  late  ?" 

"  Low  tide  in  the  demijohn !"  suggests  Tom,  turn- 
ing his  light  upon  the  still  sleeping  form  of  Monsieur 
Crapolet. 

Tom  stoops  over  the  boat's  side,  and  drawing  a  calabash 
of  water  proceeds  very  tenderly  to  bathe  Monsieur  Crapo- 
let's  wrists  and  temples,  and  speedily  brings  that  gentleman 
to  a  knowledge  of  his  whereabouts.  Monsieur  Crapolet's 
first  inquiry  is  for  Thoni,  and  his  second  is  of  Thorn  as  to 
whether  "  there  is  anything  left." 

"  But,  Tom,  where  is  the  Major  and  our  boatmen  ?"  1 
inquired. 

Tom  replies,  that  they  are  below,  assisting  in  landing  the 
camels ;  that  the  Major  and  Judge  Smithers  propose  stopping 
in  the  tents  with  our  Moors  till  morning ;  and,  as  he  assures 
us  that  it  is  some  distance  below,  and  that  everything  is  going 
on  right  there,  we  follow  his  advice,  and,  leaving  Thom  to 
look  out  for  our  effects  in  the  boat,  take  our  very  uncertain 
way  on  shore ;  not,  however,  before  Tom  has  made  glad  the 
heart  of  Monsieur  Crapolet,  by  producing  a  small  flask  of 


GORGON  A.  211 

what  he,  Tom,  styles  the  veritable  Otard,  Dupuy  &  Co.,  from 
which  we  each  take  "  a  moderate  quencher." 

Tom  is  full  of  talk.  Oh,  he  has  been  here  full  six  hours — 
was  in  before  sunset,  in  fact.  Met  with  innumerable  adven- 
tures on  the  road — got  lost— saw  a  big  snake — danced  two 
fandangoes — helped  to  bury  a  native — shot  a  monkey — found 
a  little  pig — didn't  belong  to  anybody,  so  brought  him  along 
— had  him  cooked  for  supper  at  the  hotel — great  times  up 
at  the  hotel — Miller's  railroad  house — liquor  rather  so-so,  but 
first-rate  cigai-s — grand  ball  at  the  Alcalde's— all  the  aristo- 
cracy present — a  party  of  Ethiopian  serenaders  at  Miller's, 
assisted  by  a  French  girl,  styled  in  the  bills  "  Mademoiselle 
Adele,  la  Rossignol  Fran^aise."  So  Tom  rattles  on  pell-mell, 
leading  one  to  surmise  that  Otard,  Dupuy  &  Co.  are  the 
glasses  through  Avhich  everything  appears  so  charming  to 
him. 

"  But  the  greatest  thing,"  adds  Tom,  "  is,  that  one  of  our 
old  college  friend*  is  here.  Now,  Warrener,  who  do  you 
think  it  is  ?" 

"  Can't  say,  really." 

"Why,  Jack  Tabor — brought  up  here — still  seeking  his 
fortune,  after  having  been  round  the  world  two  or  three  times 
since  he  ran  away  from  Cambridge.  What  a  wild  devil 
Jack  was — eh  ?     Jack  Tabor — old  Quin.     Oh,  dear  me  1" 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  Jack  is  in  business  here  ?" 

"But  I  do,"  continued  Tom  ;  "and  here  is  his  house" — 
pausing  in  front  of  one  of  the  more  unpretending  palaces, 
festooned  above  the  door  of  which  was  what  at  first  sight 
appeared  to  be  a  stout  bit  of  rope,  or  a  double-headed  snake, 
but  which  we  afterwards  found  to  be  an  animal  appendage 
significant  of  the  name  of  the  hotel — to  wit,  the  "  Mule's 
Tail." 

A  conversation  of  a  bargaining  character  was  going  on 


212  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTrlMUSi. 

"vvithiu.  "  Come,"  said  a  deep,  powerful  voice,  which  we 
instantly  recognised  as  that  of  Tabor,  "  what  do  you  say  ? 
Will  you  join  us  ?  We  need  three  to  do  the  business  right. 
You  can't  do  better — you  know  you're  only  a  poor  raga- 
unifBn  now.  Here,  take  the  pipe,, and  call  the  thing  closed." 
"  The  subscriber,"  replied  a  husky,  tremulous  voice, 
"  don't  need  to  be  reminded  of  his  poverty ;  although  he 
may  say  that  he  has  expectations,  through  a  French  cousin, 
who  is  heir  to  an  immense  estate,  of  seven  hundred  thousand 
million  pounds  sterling ;  and  as  for  his  costume,  why,  it  ain't 
the  best,  he  knows  (the  rascal  was  habited  at  the  time  in  a 
miscellaneous  assortment  of  dry  goods,  borrowed  from  the 
wardrobes  of  the  Judge,  Tom,  the  Major,  and  myself ) ;  but, 
Mr.  Tapir,  take  the  subscriber's  hat  on  that,  if  he  had  the 
whole  money  he  expects  in  his  hands  now,  and  was  rigged 
up  like  a  king  of  the  Cherokee  nation  to  boot,  why,  he'd  go 
in  with  you,  Mr.  Tapir,  in  this  business  under  con — con- 
sideration— he'd  be  so  much  yours,  Mr.  Tapir,  that  he'd  have 
nothing  left  for  himself.     See  small  bills !" 

Jack  Tabor  was  leaning  in  his  old  well  remembered  manly 
fashion  up  against-oue  side  of  his  hotel,  as  we  entered.  Jack 
was  the  same  tall,  square-shouldered,  full-chested,  broad, 
clear-visaged  man  that  I  had  known  him  years  before.  He 
was  a  little  browner  than  when  a  htudeiit  at  Cambridge;  a 
little  more  sallow,  likewise,  and  wore  a  ]irofuse  moustache 
and  very  short  liair;  but  he  was  as  beaming  and  handsome 
a  fellow  as  ever.  Jack  was  attired  loosely  in  cotton  trowsers, 
shirt,  and  slippers,  outwardly  and  physically,  as  doubtless 
inwardly  and  morally,  in  dishabille.  Near  Jack,  and  leaning 
up  against  the  same  side  of  the  building,  was  another  indi- 
vidual, not  so  prepossessing  in  his  personal  appearance.  He 
was  somewhat  shorter,  very  much  thiimer,  particularly  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  chest,  with  a  slouchy,  shirking  look 


GORGONA.  213 

about  him,  as  if  Lis  frame  had  been  bunglingly  stitched 
together,  ia  lieu  of  beiug  fitted  in  the  usual  way,  and  an 
altogether  hang-dog  expression  of  countenance.  He  had  a 
thin,  seedy  beard,  a  yellow  skin,  blood-shot  eyes,  and  a 
genei-al  uncombed  and  unwashed  appearance.  He  resembled 
Jack  in  one  particular — his  attire,  which  was  of  the  same 
modest  style,  both  as  to  quantity  and  quality.  In  all  other 
respects,  no  two  could  be  more  utterly  unlike.  The  third 
personage  present — who  was  seated  in  a  chair  by  a  small 
table  (the  only  furniture  in  the  apartment,  unless  a  row  of 
movable  shelves,  adorned  with  bottles,  decanters,  and  drink- 
ing vessels  could  come  under  that  head),  the  reader  has 
already  recognised  as  Colonel  Allen.  Jack  was,  at  the 
moment  of  our  entrance,  reaching  over  to  remove  a  short 
wooden  pipe  from  the  mouth  of  his  unprepossessing  com- 
panion, preparatory  to  handing  the  same  to  Colonel  Allen, 
that  the  bargain  which  had  already  been  verbally  consum- 
mated might  be  ratified  on  his  part  by  a  solemn  smoke  of 
the  mutual  pipe. 

"  Jack,"  said  Tom,  calling  his  attention  our  way,  "  here's 
another  of  the  old  guard,  Joe  Warrener." 

Jack  turned  upon  us  the  same  frank,  genial  look  which 
had,  in  other  days,  been  the  admiration  of  the  class. 

"  Shall  it  be  hot  whiskey-punch,  gentlemen  ?"  said  he, 
taking  a  hand  of  each,  and  squeezing  mine  till  it  seemed  to 
be  fast  in  a  vice. 

We  could  do  no  otherwise  than  nod  assent. 

"  But,  Joe,"  continued  he,  addressing  himself  to  me,  "  you 
look  shaky ;  never  mind,  a  few  glasses — hot,  will  bring  you 
up.  But  what  rosy  god  is  this  in  your  train  ;  as  far  as  one 
can  judge  by  personal  appearance,  this  might  be  Don 
Bacchus  himself?" 

I  presented  "  Monsieur  Crapolet" — 


214  LIFE  ON  THE  ISTHMUS. 

"  My  French  cousin,"  murmured  Colonel  Allen. 

"  The  rich  expectant,"  said  Jack.  "  Sir,  I  bid  you  welcome 
to  the  Mule's  Tail." 

"  So  you  are  actually  established  in  the  refreshment  line 
at  Gorgona  ;  eh,  Jack  'f  said  I. 

"  True,"  said  Jack,  "  and  that  reminds  me.  This  gentle- 
man," turning  to  Colonel  Allen,  "whom  we  have  just 
admitted  as  a  partner,  you  seem  to  be  already  acquainted 
with ;  but  so  far  as  this  gentleman  goes,  I  believe  you  have 
not  the  honor,"  turning  to  the  ill-looking  man — "  This  is 
Captain  Gaitey,  gentlemen,  a  hero  and  a  scholar ;  a  perfect 
gentleman,  though  he  don't  look  like  it." 

An  awkward  suspicious  nod  from  the  Captain  here  illus- 
trated the  truth  of  Jack's  latter  observation. 

"  Captain  Gaitey  don't  look  very  well  just  now,  because 
he  ain't  dressed  up,"  continued  Jack,  "  but  he  is  a  very  fine 
man.  He  has  been  almost  everywhere  and  almost  every- 
thing. His  last  business,  previous  to  becoming  a  joint 
partner  of  mine  in  the  Mule's  Tail,  was  in  the  chain-gang  at 
Havana.  The  Captain  can  tell  you  all  about  the  horriJ)le 
impositions  practised  upon  foreigners,  in  the  chain-gangs,  by 
the  miserable  Cubans.  Captain  Gaitey,  just  pull  up  your 
trowsers  a  little,  and  show  these  gentlemen  the  marks  of  the 
iron  on  your  legs." 

The  Captain's  brow^  had  been  gradually  darkening  during 
this  expose  of  Jack's,  and  this  unceremonious  allusion  to 
his  legs  was  not  at  all  to  his  taste. 

"  I  don't  tink,"  said  he,  speaking  broken  English,  "  dat 
dese  gentlemen  take  any  'ticlar  interest  in  de  personal  con- 
dition ob  my  legs." 

"'  Oh,  yes,  they  do,"  persisted  Jack.  "  They  know  you've 
been  unfortunate,  and  they  like  you  all  the  better ;  haul  up 
your  trowsers." 


GORGON  A.  215 

But  the  Cfiptaia  still  hesitating — "Never  mind  now," 
continued  Jack,  considerately,  "  these  gentlemen  are  in  no 
Lurry,  some  other  time  will  do  as  well ;  and  now  go  and 
get  a  pitcher  of  hot  water." 

Captain  Gaitey,  hy  way  of  proving  to  us  that  his  legs, 
notwithstanding  any  indignity  they  might  have  suffered 
from  the  Cubans,  were  still  in  working  order,  set  off  with 
the  pitcher  in  hand,  and  presently  returned  with  the  desired 
liquid. 

We  drank  merely  a  couple  of  rounds,  by  which  time  both 
Tom  and  Colonel  Allen  began  to  show  symptoms  of  going 
to  sleep  on  the  premises  ;  and  Captain  Gaitey,  not  appearing 
in  the  mood  to  drop  any  crumbs  of  wisdom  from  his  stores 
of  experience  for  our  edification,  I  proposed  going  up  to  the 
hotel  for  the  night. 

"  Well,"  said  Jack,  "  I  guess  it's  about  time ;  we  usually 

close  at  half-past  eleven,  but  it's  a  kind  of  a  broken  up  night 

to-night,  and  it  seems  we've  run  along  to  near  one.     Lead 

off,  Captain   Gaitey,  and  show  the  gentlemen  the  way  to 

Miller's -I'll  shut  up  shop." 

*  -k  *  -*  *  * 

Jack — there's  many  a  nodding  reader  will  thank  you  for 
that  suggestion.  This  narrative  of.  mine  is  likewise  a  kind 
of  a  broken  up  affair,  and  it  seems  that  I  too  have  run  along 
a  little  beyond  the  prescribed  limits;  it's  time  to  shut  up 
shop.  Should  the  reader  at  any  future  day,  following  the 
morrow's  example  of  Tom  and  Colonel  Allen,  manifest  a 
desire  to  return  to  his  or  her  soporific,  I  shall  be  most  happy 
to  deal  it  out,  "  time  and  tide"  permitting. 

Until  then,  dear  companion  of  my  pleasant  moments- 
meaning,  of  course,  the  reader — fare  thee  well. 

THE   END. 


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